


Exordium

by swaps55



Series: Mass Effect: Chronica [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-10 01:16:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 56
Words: 254,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swaps55/pseuds/swaps55
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>...there are empty spaces between the stars, a cold interstitum of utter dark, where blood runs black and monsters lurk. In the silence something broods, waits, watches. They are patient, constant, relentless. And they are far, far older than the infants now taking their first halting steps across the galactic sand.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The story lies in the telling.</p><p>ME:1, on/off screen moments, POVs from everyone listed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Initium

There was a turian on board.

The _Normandy’s_ crew roster had hardly been finalized before her new pilot disengaged the docking clamps and set course for Arcturus Station, where Nihlus Kryik now waited for them in the airlock. A turian. And not just a turian. A Spectre.

They’d pulled out of spacedock with their pants halfway around their ankles to pick up a Spectre. Shepard didn’t even know the name of their navigator.

“What does this guy want with the _Normandy_ , and why do we care?” he asked.

“Look sharp,” Captain Anderson replied, tugging at his uniform. He wore dress blues and a posture like molded concrete, head held high and hands clasped behind his back as though bracing for a rebuke. In the years he had known Anderson, Shepard had never seen him intimidated by anyone. This Nihlus, however, seemed to have gotten under his skin without even setting foot on the ship. 

The ship’s VI announced the cycle was complete and opened the airlock, revealing a well-armed turian standing a shade taller than Shepard’s not inconsiderable height. Over his distinctive carapace he wore black armor with subtle red striping that looked more expense than anything in the Alliance catalog. Striped white clan markings ran from his lower mandibles all the way across the top of his skull to the horned tips the crest jutting out behind his head. A set of small but salient green eyes heeded them with the ferocity of a predator. Anderson had remarked more than once that turians looked like the evolutionary link between dinosaurs and birds, and Shepard was forced to agree.   

Nihlus stepped inside the _Normandy_ with a curt nod. Anderson introduced himself and offered a dark-skinned hand in greeting, which Nihlus examined almost curiously before reluctantly accepting it gingerly with his three-talon grip. Anderson cleared his throat. “I’d like you to meet my XO, Commander Shepard.” 

Shepard nodded, not offering another handshake the turian clearly didn’t care for. “Welcome on board the _Normandy_.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Nihlus said, the subharmonics in his voice flanging in harmony. He fixed Shepard with a long, piercing look. Shepard shifted his feet, acutely uncomfortable he was in regs rather than armor. His fingers itched for his sidearm.

Anderson dismissed him quickly with orders to head to the bridge and oversee departure procedures. It was a bullshit task, since their pilot had already made it quite clear he hated having someone leering over his shoulder telling him how to do his job, but Shepard seized the opportunity to escape. 

Past the narrow row of haptic interfaces connecting the CIC to the bridge he could see Joker lounging in the pilot’s chair, tossing a hand in the air as he tried to impress a point to Alenko, who rode the conn and pretended to listen while casting frequent looks over his shoulder. Shepard had no doubt the lieutenant was supremely interested in their new guest.

“Doesn’t matter,” Joker said as Shepard came up behind them. “You have to have maneuverability to keep up with that whale of a drive core back there. Balance is going to be a bitch with this girl.”

“Shepard!” Alenko said. Joker turned slightly in his seat and tugged at the brim of his ball cap by way of greeting. The headwear wasn’t exactly standard issue, but then again neither was Joker.

“The Capitan wants you to start pre-flight checks and get ready to head for Eden Prime,” Shepard told him.

Joker rolled his eyes, gesturing at his flight display. “What the hell does he think I’m doing? Not like we’ve been here longer than five minutes or anything. It’s like we’re a taxicab instead of a state of the art frigate. I need a damned fare meter up here.”

“So?” Alenko asked. “Did you see him?”

Shepard nodded. “He’s a Spectre all right. You tell just by the armor.”

That piqued his interest. Kaidan Alenko was as big of an armor snob as Shepard. “What’d he have?”

“Serrice Council, I’d bet my ass.”

Alenko whistled. “Serrice Council. The dirty things I could do with one of their amps…”

“Easy now,” Joker remarked.

“Anderson give you any idea why he’s here?”

Shepard shook his head. “He’s still sticking to the official story. Observing the Council’s investment.”

“Yeah, right,” Joker said. “If the Council sent a Spectre all the way out here for a joyride to the Exodus Cluster then I’m a hanar. But what do I know? I just fly the ship.”

Anderson had warned him about Joker’s quirks. Shepard didn’t mind quirks so long as the person who had them could back them up, and according to Joker’s file, he could be the biggest asshole in the fleet and still be worth the trouble. 

Shepard leaned over the pilot seat and looked through the shutters at Arcturus’s torus ring, punctuated by the winking lights and lazy glide of other starships coasting into and out of the docking facilities. “Think you can handle departure by yourself?”

Joker shot him a look of pure venom, saw the amusement on Shepard’s face and rolled his eyes while making a noise of disgust. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Good. Alenko, you’re with me.

Alenko stood and followed Shepard back through the sweeping CIC, where the new crew buzzed around the shimmering navigational map of the galaxy at its center. In spite of his hurry he almost stopped for a moment to take it in – a ship on its maiden voyage, every bulkhead and floor tile glossy and new. Even the circulated air felt fresh. It would never be like this again.

A couple of crewmembers threw salutes Shepard’s way. He returned them brusquely, hoping no one addressed him directly.

“What’s up?” Alenko asked.

“Crew roster,” he said under his breath, casting a quick glance at the unknown navigator, an older, balding man standing on the podium at the apex of the map. “I need to know what the hell everyone’s name is before I make an ass of myself.”

He knew without having to ask that Alenko had already memorized not only the names and ranks but pertinent details from the files of most everyone on board.

“Yes sir,” Alenko said solemnly.

Shepard was positive he’d been the kid in school who always did his homework and raised his hand to answer a question. He was three year’s Shepard’s senior, but the thick-haired, clean-shaven lieutenant was often mistaken for younger. Shepard was not above shoving rank in his face whenever he mentioned it.  

Anderson and Nihlus had disappeared, presumably to the comm room tucked behind the CIC. Shepard headed down one of the twin curved staircases behind the galaxy map that led down to the crew deck. The mess tables behind the cargo elevator were nearly deserted, so Shepard slid into an empty chair and gestured for Alenko to do the same. Behind the stanchion dividing the mess from the crew area he could see the long hall of sleeper pods, red light refracting off their plastic cowling. He grimaced. Cramming yourself into a vertical pod to sleep wasn’t something he’d gotten used to, even if it wasn’t as bad as it looked.

A couple of crewmen filtered past, either looking for the aft terminals near the sleeper pods or the port side lockers by the med bay. The ship’s doctor, an aristocratic woman with short, immaculate hair the color of chalk, stood at the door directing two servicemen delivering supplies. Chakwas, Shepard thought her name was. Anderson knew her from some past assignment.

The nice thing about Alenko being the only other familiar face besides the Captain was that he was a fellow marine. Like most ships, the _Normandy_ had a marine compliment to go along with the naval officers. Regardless of rank or personality there was always that moment when the invisible lines separating the two crossed for the first time. Sometimes it was without incident, and the blended lines stayed blended. Other times they were quickly redrawn and dug in like trenches. You never knew what it was going to be until it happened. Shepard was secretly curious how having a marine XO would go over.                           

“Ok,” Shepard said, chair creaking in protest as he settled into it. The downside of a brand new ship was that nothing had been broken in. “The navigator. Who is he?”

“Charles Pressly,” Alenko replied without hesitating, confirming Shepard’s assumption. “He’s good.”

“Served with him?” Shepard pulled a datapad out of one of the cargo pockets in his pants and made a note he would never look at.  

He shook his head. “He comes from the _Agincourt_. Earned his commission after the Blitz.”

Shepard glanced up sharply. “He was at Elysium?”

Alenko nodded, expression guarded. Shepard leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table. “Okay,” he said after a few moments.

Alenko looked like he was on the verge of saying something more, but changed his mind. “Chief Engineer is Greg Adams. I’m not sure there’s a class of starship he hasn’t served on. Think he could get this table to hit FTL speeds if we asked him. His service record is a mile long. We’re in pretty good hands.”

“Good,” Shepard said. “Because I have to admit this IES thing makes me a little uncomfortable. Call me paranoid, but I just don’t love giving ourselves yet another way to fry inside our own hull.”

Alenko’s bemused expression made Shepard grunt. In many ways the dark-haired lieutenant was Shepard’s polar opposite. Alenko was an easygoing, by the book tech nerd who had an irritating knack for taking whatever life threw at him in perfect stride, digesting each experience in a way that left him obnoxiously self-adjusted. Shepard on the other hand was just as likely to blow right past rules and regs without pausing to notice they were even there, and tended to assume most problems could be solved easily enough with a few well-placed bullets. It was part of why he’d been shipped off to special ops in the first place. The Alliance seemed to conclude that armor, a good gun and something to shoot at was the best way to handle him, and Shepard had taken that conclusion and run it all the way through the N program to the coveted N7 designation he wore on his hardsuit in the form of a red stripe on the left arm.

“What about the other guy on the ground team?” Shepard asked.

“Jenkins?” Alenko asked. “Yeah, Richard Jenkins. He just made corporal. Never been in the field.”

Shepard groaned.

Alenko slid a datapad across the table to him and tapped its glassy surface. “It might not be that bad. Check out his proficiency scores.”

Shepard snatched the pad, giving Alenko a suspicious look. “How did you get these?”

“I was…curious?”

“Remind me to change the encryption protocols on my credit account.”

“Nothing in there worth taking, Commander.”

Shepard waved him off with a grumble. “Anything else I need to know about this guy?”

“He’s from Eden Prime. Parents are farmers.” Again he gave Shepard that careful, calculated look. Shepard maintained a neutral expression and looked back over the test scores, wondering if Anderson and Commander Liscandro, his first CO, had had a similar discussion when Shepard’s file had first come across Steven’s desk.

“Yeah,” he said, then trailed off.  Almost subconsciously, he checked the status of the kid’s immediate family. Still alive and working in Shiloh, a rural district outside Constant. That was one difference between them at least.

“Shepard,” Alenko asked hesitantly.

“Mm?”

“This entire roster was handpicked by Captain Anderson.”

Shepard had an idea what was coming. “He wanted the best. Ship’s a prototype and from the sounds of it the Alliance spent a fortune to build it. Makes sense you want your best people on it.”

“Then…how did _I_ end up here?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Kaidan.”

“I’m not,” Alenko insisted. “Just wondering how I ended up on Anderson’s radar.”   

Shepard rubbed his thumb absently across his chin, suddenly conscious that he needed a shave. “Anderson wanted a good ground team. Told me to recommend someone, since they were going to be my men anyway.”

“Thanks, Shepard,” he said after a lengthy pause.

“I wanted someone I could trust,” Shepard informed him. “And now that I know our third squad mate is probably still a virgin, you better make me look good. Especially since we apparently have to impress a Spectre.”

Alenko looked thoughtful. “Why do you think he’s here?”

They both paused as a young private passed by on his way to one of the terminals near the sleeper pods. Alenko nodded pleasantly, then they both lowered their voices.

“No idea,” Shepard said, “but Joker’s right. A Council rep is one thing, but this is a Spectre. Which means it’s got to be more than a routine maiden voyage to Eden Prime.”

“You’ve served with Anderson before, haven’t you? Any insight at all?”

Shepard shook his head. “Never served with him, actually.”

This took Alenko by surprise. “But you know each other.”

“He’s…given me a hand here and there.” Shepard hoped Alenko would leave it at that, and he did. It was one reason they got along so well – each knew when to prod and when to let things go. Elaborating on his relationship with Anderson would involve getting into things he didn’t feel like dredging up.

 _“Shepard_. _”_

Shepard jumped a little at the sound of Anderson’s voice over the comm. “Sir?”

_“Meet me in my quarters. There’s something we need to discuss.”_

The Captain’s quarters were a stone’s throw away from the mess on the starboard side of the ship. Without a word Alenko rose, nodded to Shepard and headed back to the bridge. Anderson passed him at the bottom of the stairwell, reached his quarters in a few swift strides and gestured for Shepard to head inside.

The _Normandy_ Captain’s quarters were surprisingly spacious, but sparsely furnished. Based on Anderson’s various offices, several of which Shepard had found himself in over the years, sometimes willingly and sometimes not, they were likely to stay that way. Shepard caught sight of the bed, thought of the sleeper pods and felt a mild stab of jealousy. 

Anderson came to a halt just inside the door. Years of military service were firmly etched in the weathered lines of his face. He gave Shepard a long, hard look, brow deeply furrowed. Shepard’s eyebrow twitched.

“Nihlus is here to evaluate you,” Anderson said by way of greeting. Shepard blinked.

“Evaluate me for what?” he asked. “What does the Council care about an Alliance commander?”

Anderson inhaled deeply. “The Citadel ambassador has been lobbying for more human involvement in interstellar policymaking. One of the things he’s after is naming a human to the Spectres.”

Spectres. The elite, right arm of the Council. Their reputation made Shepard’s N7 designation look nominal. Spectres answered to no one. They did quietly what the Council could not do publicly. There was a reason no one wanted one around.

Becoming one was a coveted honor, one rarely bestowed.

“Why hide it from me?” Shepard demanded.

Anderson worked his jaw a little. There was that odd expression again, the same one Shepard had seen when Nihlus had arrived. “Because politics is not your forte, and this is a political minefield.”

He’d been planning this. Shepard thought back to their vid conversation before his posting on the _Normandy_. Perhaps he didn’t know the Captain as well as he thought.

“Eden Prime is more than a shakedown run,” Anderson went on.

“Clearly.”

“They found a prothean beacon down there. Intact. The Alliance is sending us to extract it and bring it to the Citadel for study.”

“Prothean?” Shepard frowned. Suddenly sending a stealth ship made a lot more sense.

Anderson nodded. “The last time we found working prothean technology we wound up discovering mass effect drives. So I don’t think I need to reiterate how important this is.”

Shepard crossed his arms. “I’m guessing Nihlus wants to see me do more than pick up a beacon.”

“It’ll be the first of several missions,” Anderson agreed. “Given your involvement at Elysium and your personal history, I think you’ve more than proved yourself.”

Shepard noted the omission of Torfan, but let it go. This wasn’t the time for that argument. 

“But the Council wants an eyewitness account from one of their own,” he went on, “so you’re going to give it to them.”

Joker's voice interrupted them over the comm. " _Captain. Emergency transmission coming through from Eden Prime. You better get up here, sir."_

 


	2. Subitus

Ashley Williams flipped a card onto the table and smirked as Yvetz swore. “Thank you for the credits, Private.”

The surly weapons specialist muttered under his breath and chucked his cards at her. She picked them up one by one, making a face at the grease marks from his fingers. “Wash your hands every now and then, Yvetz. Grease monkey isn’t meant to be taken literally.”

“Says the girl whose shotgun is cleaner than her fingernails.”

She flipped him the bird, determined not to look at her hands. “You need a girl with dirt under her nails.”

“Is that an offer?”

For just a moment she imagined the oily-haired, middle-aged, thick-fingered Yvetz without a shirt on and resisted the urge to laugh. “If you mean an offer to introduce your balls to my foot, sure.”

That got a chortle from Bourdelle, a barrel-chested black Frenchman sitting to Ashley’s left. Though Bourdelle looked like he should be off in some pit wrangling varren with his bare hands, he somehow managed to embody the collective disdain of his home country, and since his posting on Eden Prime had directed every ounce of it at Yvetz. Ashley had once asked him if he pissed wine and shat cheese, and he’d taken it as a compliment.

She split the deck and fanned the worn edges with her thumbs. As she dealt the next hand, McIllheney, the fourth marine at the table, snatched each of his cards like they wanted to bite him. He’d lost every hand, and it hadn’t improved the dour mood he’d walked in with.

The four of them were killing time before the start of second shift. It was Ashley’s first week off third shift, and it still felt weird to make rounds in daylight. The lounge was a totally different place with sun streaming through the broad paned windows. It made her realize how filthy the floors were.  

“You ever get that Titan’s targeting matrix sorted out?” McIllheney asked as he scrutinized his hand. McIllheney was a sniper, and the new Titan rifles they’d gotten a few days ago were faulty. He was getting itchy.

“It was a problem with the hardsuit sync,” she mused, eyes flicking over to Yvetz to look for his tell. “Bhatia flashed the COS and is re-programming them all. Assuming Grease Monkey over there gets them all field tested you should have it in a few days.”

Yvetz shot her a dark look.     

Sonsini, the operations chief in charge of their platoon, stuck his head in the room. Sonsini was an ok guy. He was pushing forty but still bound and determined to earn an officer’s commission. Like Ashley, he wanted berth on a starship so bad he could taste it, but kept getting shafted groundside to twiddle his thumbs and bark at marines who rarely ever got to do more than a few controlled drills. But he kept at it, and his last name wasn’t Williams. That was good news for him, all the more depressing for her. If Sonsini was trying this hard and couldn’t get it done, she didn’t have a chance in hell.

It was normal to see Sonsini all business, but there was something else in his face that made Ashley sit up before he even spoke. “On your feet, marines,” he ordered. “Comm systems just went down. We’re on patrol.”

The four of them abandoned the cards on the table and headed to their weapons lockers without asking questions. A post on Eden Prime was little more than babysitting colonists, but they were still well-trained Alliance marines. Within minutes she’d pulled on the boots of her armor, a medium weight Phoenix hardsuit, and slid a Lancer loaded with a fresh ammo block into the holster on her back. Sirta Foundation had just approved the paperwork for the Phoenix and she hadn’t had much chance to test it. She swiftly knotted her dark hair into a bun and pulled her helmet on, grinning as she synced the weapons suite to the arsenal riding on her back. This thing could kick the ass of her old Mantis suit.

“Sit rep?” she asked.

“Unknown,” Sonsini replied. “Comm systems just went dead. Muneio ordered the 212 out to patrol the area and stay on high alert.”

“Is it just Arcadia?” Arcadia was an agricultural settlement south of Constant no one had heard of until a soil reclamation team had stumbled upon a prothean beacon two weeks ago. Next thing Ashley knew a ship had shown up to drop off a bunch of scientists that had been swarming the area ever since. Most of her unit had been diverted to keeping a close eye on it. A glance at her HUD chronometer told her Hudson’s platoon was on duty right now.

Sonsini shook his head. “Planet wide.”

Now she understood the look on his face. Local comm failure was usually just a mechanical issue. A planet wide communication blackout meant an attack. Her gut twisted, though she couldn’t tell if it was from fear or exhilaration.

Sonsini had found a working radio and was talking to Lieutenant Muneio, commander of the unit, as the second platoon assembled. First platoon was out with the beacon, third platoon was getting roused from their bunks and assembling in front of the barracks.

A boom of unnatural thunder took them all by surprise. Ashley craned her neck towards the sky, wondering if the atmospheric circulators had gone haywire along with the comms. Angry whorls of black cloud had formed in the direction of Constant, almost like the funnel of a tornado.  

Ashley frowned. Using the sensor suite in her hardsuit she scoped in on the disturbance. There was something in it.

“What the _fuck_ ,” she murmured aloud.

An oblong ship descended through the turbid clouds. It was massive, shaped of all things like a cuttlefish, with a broad spine and hooked appendages near the bow that grasped for purchase as it sank almost gracefully towards the ground like a spider on a thread of silk.

It was too big to even be entering the atmosphere. According to her suit it measured a staggering two kilometers long, easily longer than any dreadnaught in the Alliance fleet, and probably any other fleet for that matter. Its effortless descent should have been impossible – unless the ship had no plans to leave again. A chill ran down her back.

The wind, still just a few moments ago, began to whip and wail. From the cancerous clouds came several flashes of movement followed by the throb of engines powering through atmosphere. Fighters? They sounded too big for that. But whatever they were, they were gunning south.

Sonsini, who had stopped for a moment to gape with the rest of them, began shouting into his radio and pressing it closer to his ear in an effort to hear. 

Ashley squinted to make out the incoming vessels. They were large, almost the size of frigates, shaped like wingless insects with beady heads and short, flexible claws hanging from their elongated abdomens. The design was unlike that of the dreadnaught ship, but strangely reminiscent of it. The sheer strangeness of it was almost enough to overcome fear. _What the hell_? Known ship designs began running through her head. Turian, salarian, batarian, even asari... only quarian bore even the slightest resemblance, and that was to the smaller ships, not the brute now looming over Constant.

“Form up!” Sonsini bellowed. “We move out towards the beacon dig site!”

“Beacon?” Ashley said, unable to shut her mouth in time. “What about the colony!”

The dreadnaught opened fire.

They could hear it all the way in Arcadia, a high powered whine accompanied by a ray of red energy that flicked almost casually outward from one of the bow arms. Still scoped, Ashley watched in horror as the upper portion of Prosperity Tower in the center of Constant was shorn completely away.

“Move it!” Sonsini bellowed.

The dig site was six kilometers from the barracks across undeveloped swampland near a dry riverbed, and they were forced to go on foot.  Between the influx of scientists and the platoon already there on patrol, no vehicles remained in the vicinity.  Second platoon of the 212 went south at the kind of pace usually reserved for disciplinary drills. The makeshift road they had made to allow easier access to the site was little more than an uneven dirt path.

They had not even closed half of the distance when one of the insect ships blasted over their heads, clearly heading to the same destination. Ashley watched it break with surprising agility, vertical thrusters firing a quick orange burst to allow it to descend.

Dropship. They were about to see their attackers face to face. _Good,_ she thought, gripping her gun tighter. Sonsini came to the same conclusion and brought them to a halt, sending Ashley, McIllheney and Private Dakin to form a right flank where they could follow a ridge overlooking the site.  Yvetz, Oriaki and Geddelstein were sent to the higher elevation on their left. Sonsini, Bourdelle and the remaining four members of the platoon braced for a frontal assault. At least they had terrain to their advantage; the site sat down in a shallow valley that would give them the high ground.

Dakin and McIllheney followed her lead. They jogged in silence over the soggy soil, the only sound they made coming from the subtle creak of their armor joints. The ridge was narrow and their going slower than she anticipated, but the way was clear.

The dreadnaught kept firing. Ashley isolated the audio feed inside her helmet and deactivated it, unable to think about the chaos unfolding in Constant. Instead she called up the thirty six transponder signals in her HUD that represented the 212 and tagged the members of her platoon.

“You seen anything like that ship before?” Dakin whispered.

“Quiet, marine,” she hissed back, partially out of fear they would give away their position and partially because she was afraid of the answer. _No. I’ve never seen it before. And humanity does not have a great track record with first contact, especially when a Williams is involved._

They made it another kilometer before she thought something was wrong. Her HUD remained empty of any possible hostiles, but suddenly Bordelle’s marker registered a hardsuit breach.

“The hell,” she breathed, wondering if there was some quirk in the Phoenix’s software. But Dakin and McIllheney stopped short. They’d seen it too. Before she could query the sensor configurations, Bourdelle’s hardsuit signature dropped off the grid entirely. She gestured madly for McIllheney and Dakin to move. The 212 was under attack from something that didn’t register on their sensors.

 _“Hostiles!”_       

Sonsini’s voice erupted over the comm in her helmet. The feed exploded with chatter, the entire unit reporting some variation of the same. Her HUD reported sustained weapon fire at the dig coordinates. Ashley spurred the other two men on as six other hardsuit signatures winked out. _What the hell is happening?_ Finally they crossed a tree line and the site came into view down and to their right. McIllheney swore. It was swarming with hostiles all right, but Ashley immediately noted they weren’t human. They weren’t even _organic_.

Her marines were being mowed down by bipedal machines. Not mechs – their fluid, deft movements were far too sophisticated for that. These things were tall and sleek, with none of the fumbling awkwardness of a security mech. Their bodies were covered with segmented cowling connected by intricate, flexible tubing. A bright, blue light gleamed from the center of their faces like a flashlight. All of them carried pulse rifles that sprayed an oscillating whine of bullets. As was rapidly becoming painfully clear, they had the reflexes of an organic and the accuracy of a VI. Except Ashley was convinced they were not VIs.

It took her a moment to notice a series of tall metal spikes had been set up around the perimeter of the dig site. After a closer look she saw _people_ on them, impaled right through the chest. Bile rose in the back of her throat.

“Chief!” McIllheney yelled and pointed at something making its way up the ridge.

“Bordelle?” Ashley said in surprise, then gasped.

It wasn’t Bordelle anymore.       


	3. Viventes Machina

“Reverse and hold at 38.5.”

Shepard glowered at the vidscreen, where the colossal dreadnaught hung frozen over the skyline of Eden Prime. The lower flaps of Nihlus’s mandible quivered. The three of them stood in the _Normandy’s_ large, oval comm room, lit by bright fluorescent lighting etching the borders of the viewscreen. 

Anderson expression remained stoic, but his brown eyes flashed. “How long until we reach Eden Prime?”

 _“We’re seventeen minutes out, sir,”_ Joker reported over the comm.

“Engage the IES once we reach Utopia. Take us in fast and quiet.” He turned to Shepard and Nihlus. “Looks like things just got a little more complicated.”

“Our first priority is to secure the beacon,” Nihlus said.  

Shepard bristled, a sea of faces swimming up into the forefront of his brain. The same names, same faces, the same choler that accompanied them. He understood turian militarism better than most, but sometimes the cold calculus that saved some as easily as it condemned others made his teeth itch. Sometimes it was just goddamned personal. 

“Commander.”

Shepard shifted his gaze from the Spectre to his CO, who knew exactly where Shepard’s thoughts had gone.  

“Suit up,” Anderson said, his rich baritone voice carrying an edge as sharp as a knife. “Get Alenko and Jenkins and meet us in the cargo hold. We need to figure out what the hell is going on down there.”

~

Engineer Adams engaged the IES as soon as Joker completed their breaking burn to Eden Prime. No time like the present to see if the stealth system actually worked. If it didn’t, this would be the shortest mission of Shepard’s career.

Eden Prime was home to just shy of four million people, about half of whom lived in Constant, a flourishing, urban capitol center. The rest were strewn throughout smaller agriculturally driven settlements in the surrounding valleys and grasslands, all connected by an extensive, state of the art monorail system. The beacon was somewhere on the outskirts of the southernmost settlement. Pressly had identified a drop point a few kilometers southeast of the beacon’s reported coordinates near some undeveloped swampland.   

Alenko and Jenkins already waited in the cargo bay, Jenkins fiddling with his standard issue Hahne-Kedar assault rifle and looking like he might throw up. Shepard felt a pang of sympathy. About ten minutes ago Jenkins thought he was getting a homecoming. He checked the heat sinks on his own assault rifle and hefted it over his back until he felt it catch in the holster next to his sniper. After a moment’s hesitation he grabbed the Katana. In his experience a shotgun was never a bad idea. His sidearm was already secure on his belt, alongside a pouch of grenades.

Shepard liked to be prepared. 

Joker announced over Shepard’s comm he’d spotted a handful of shuttles fleeing to orbit.

_“They’re all pinging the comm buoys but getting no response. Tightbeam communications don’t seem affected. Lots of ship to ship chatter.”_

“Maintain comm silence,” Anderson ordered, stepping off the cargo bay elevator with Nihlus. “We can’t take any chances on giving away our position.”

_“Aye, sir.”_

The people on the shuttles had probably run out of instinct, though Shepard couldn’t help but wonder if they hadn’t engineered a worse fate for themselves. When that dreadnaught decided to leave, chances were they would be picked off one by one with no way to defend themselves. Groundside there was a chance they could wait it out. How it had shut the buoys down was unknown, and currently not something he could worry about.

Shepard adjusted the shoulder guard of his armor, flicking a gloved finger at a new scuff in the signature N7 red stripe. At least he had an Onyx hardsuit and didn’t have to deal with the baseline Hydra shit Jenkins was stuck with. It was only one of many perks that came with being special ops, but it was a good one.  

He ran systems checks on his HUD. Weapons suite, kinetic barriers, life support systems and navigation flashed green. Shepard programmed a link to the hardsuit signatures of Alenko and Jenkins, then tested the connection once the query was acknowledged. Their bio readings displayed dutifully in the lower left corner of his field of vision. He glanced up to see Alenko tap the back of his neck, double checking his amp. When you didn’t know who your enemy was, it was always nice to have someone who could throw out a biotic punch, and Alenko had one hell of a left hook.

The inertial dampeners whined briefly when the _Normandy_ hit atmosphere. Shepard laid an arm against a bulkhead to steady himself until the ride smoothed out. 

Nihlus edged closer to the cargo door.

“Leaving early?” Shepard asked.

“I’ve sent a second set of coordinates to your pilot,” he responded. “No offense, commander, but I work better on my own. I’m heading to the closest monorail station to evaluate the situation. You head for the dig site. I’ll meet you there.”

The cargo bay door lowered. A blast of hot air rolled over them, the smell of burnt ozone permeating the rapidly thickening haze. The _Normandy_ skimmed over broken grasslands, and through the murk they saw the clustered skyscrapers of Constant rising in the distance, wreathed in black smoke. The dreadnaught clamped to one of the remaining towers, clinging by the strange appendages of its lower torso, almost too big to be believed. Shepard pondered the distant monster. Cuttlefish was an awfully benign descriptor for something so terrifying, but he had long ago learned that when you started poking under the rocks of the galaxy, you rarely found things matched up the way you thought they should. 

“Remember,” Anderson told them. “The beacon is your top priority. Assist where you can, but that’s a secondary objective.”

Shepard nodded.

 _“Approaching drop point one,”_ Joker reported over the comm.

Nihlus jogged to the end of the ramp, gun drawn. He waited for the _Normandy_ to slow, then disappeared off the edge. Shepard, Alenko and Jenkins approached the door and waited for the second drop point.

“Good luck, Shepard,” Anderson said.

Shepard’s boots hit the soft ground with a squelch. The _Normandy_ coasted away, angling back up towards the atmosphere, silent as a ghost and invisible to anyone not looking out a window. Around them the air was still but heavy; his hardsuit recorded more humidity and higher temperatures than normal with an abnormal concentration of particulates. Northward the swampy ground gave way to shallow hills broken by a handful of trees and stone outcrops. Further ahead he could see the colony edifices – even from a distance it looked like this area had been hit hard. Small winks of light indicated some at least still had power, but others were dark.

 _What kind of ground troops are we dealing with?_ Shepard wondered. Had the ship done all of this, or was there an army on foot that they were going to have to contend with?

A soft moan from Jenkins filtered over his comm. Shepard gritted his teeth. He knew better than anyone how little the sims meant when your shields were one mass accelerated slug from failure and the life of your squad hung in the balance. Sympathy notwithstanding, the last thing Shepard wanted was to find out now that Jenkins couldn’t cut it.  

Thank God for Alenko, at least. Shepard had served with a lot of men, but none of them had the level head he kept on his shoulders. Through his faceplate Alenko appeared relaxed but ready, his lean frame coiled tighter than a spring. A soldier’s discipline and a biotic metabolism made him light and fast, but that wasn’t what made him dangerous. There was something far deadlier under Alenko’s skin than the pistol he held in his hand, and it had saved Shepard’s ass more than once.

Where Alenko was quick and controlled Shepard was a demagogic force, with a tendency to use his broad frame as a battering ram, firm in his belief he could take down an enemy through sheer force of will.  

They crested a ridge that looked down on a basin dotted with shrubby trees and smudges of white, exposed rock. HUD still showed no hostiles, but no additional Alliance-coded hardsuit signatures either. To their left a few gasbags hovered over a stagnant pond. The thick atmosphere sat heavy on his shoulders. Beads of sweat had already formed on Shepard’s brow.

The settlement was close enough to see black smoke gasping from the fractured bones of a tower.

“Who did this?” Jenkins breathed. “So much so fast…”

Jenkins had no idea how fast a colony could go from safe haven to ash. Shepard didn’t want him to have to find out.

Alenko said started to say something but Shepard waved them silent, crept a little farther up the path and listened. The flesh on the back of his neck rippled. His HUD still insisted the way was clear. Leaves in a nearby tree fluttered. Shepard raised his weapon.

A high energy phasic slug punched through the air, refracting off Jenkins’ shields with a sharp hiss, sending him reeling backwards and groping for balance. Shepard barked at everyone to take cover, his targeting system automatically kicking in and tracking the source of the attack.

Four synthetic drones dove at them from the trees like angry wasps, firing pulse weapons while madly dancing back and forth to avoid target lock. Shepard jagged to the right and shot from the hip in an attempt to distract them long enough for Alenko to get a bead. Two shots ricocheted off his kinetic barriers with a bright crackle, momentarily throwing him off balance. His hardsuit alarms pinged a warning as one of the slugs soaked up the charge from his shields faster than his suit could replenish it. He hit the ground shoulder first and rolled.

Something was very wrong. Normal drones just fired dutifully when something entered their visual range and maybe flitted around a bit to make it interesting. These drones were executing a coordinated attack. 

Jenkins fired and missed, but Alenko lobbed a tech mine that exploded in mid-air with a shriek of electricity that leapt from one drone to the next like chain lightning. The drones shuddered, sparked, then dropped and lay motionless. Without a word Alenko offered his hand and pulled Shepard back to his feet. His expression was dark. Jenkins stood a few feet away, visibly shaken. His shields had taken a few hits but slowly regenerated back to full strength. Shepard brushed at a new singe mark on his chest plate near the shoulder joint. His shields had drained most of the force of the impact, but he could feel an ungentle throb.    

“What…?” Jenkins started.

“Those weren’t Alliance,” Alenko said, chill in his voice.

Damn straight they weren’t. The attack had been too sophisticated, too accurate. “Keep your eyes open,” Shepard told them. “We have to get to that dig site. Alenko, can you adjust the sensor suite to scan for drones?”

His omnitool had already flared to life, the golden glow of the nearly transparent haptic glove reflecting off his faceplate. “Working on it, sir. Also trying to increase the range a little.”

“Good call with the grenades,” Shepard said after a moment. Sometimes he forgot how good Alenko was with electronic countermeasures.

“Figured you wanted your head.”  

Shepard’s comm crackled with Nihlus’s voice. _“Shepard.”_

“Go ahead.”

_“I’m near the monorail depot. Lots of bodies, but not many hostiles. Mostly drones. Whatever happened, it looks like most of the attackers have moved out.”_

“We’ve encountered a few drones ourselves, but no other hostiles. We’re nearing the dig site.”

_“I’ll be there when I can. Keep me informed.”_

 Shepard’s HUD flickered for a moment as Alenko uploaded the combat scanner upgrade. Red markers sprang up to the northwest – near the beacon coordinates. But with the extended range Alenko had managed to scrounge up he also read Alliance hardsuit signatures. “Friendlies,” Shepard said urgently. “Move out!”

It didn’t take long to find them.  

The remnants of an Alliance platoon headed right for them in full retreat. Shepard prepared to put down some suppressive fire to take the heat off their backs, but once he saw their attackers his finger froze on the trigger.

_Synthetics?_

The silver skinned machines mercilessly pursued the soldiers who were still on their feet, not, Shepard noted, firing to kill. They incapacitated as many as they could, then dragging them over to low-set, flat-topped tripods. Or so they appeared.

At the touch of a button a giant spike speared the still-living soldiers right through the gut and carried them screaming into the sky. A skewer of fear iced Shepard’s spine.  

One soldier had escaped, running for her life up the hill. Hearing a drone overhead she dropped and rolled, screaming with rage as she fired her shotgun. The slug pinged off the drone’s metal hide and sent it spinning. But three more synthetics still closed rapidly, and she had nowhere to go. With a quick glance at Alenko and Jenkins, Shepard opened fire.

The machines did not expect reinforcements. Neither did the Alliance solider, who dove out of the way behind a rock.

The synthetics whirred and clicked in metallic consonance. Alenko palmed another tech mine and launched it, but the angry chatter of overheating weapons that Shepard was expecting never came. There was no time to wonder why. Shepard drew his shotgun and launched out of cover, barreling towards the three closest hostiles and pumping a round right into the head of the leader. Its harmonious clicking became a squeal as a viscous white fluid spurted from the hole Shepard had put in the blue light of its face. He slammed a forearm into the neck of the one to his left, then drove the barrel of his gun upwards, the force snapping its head backwards so that it hung by a handful of sparking wires.

Too late did he realize that he’d left his back open to the third. With an organic enemy he would have had time to defend himself, but in a painful moment of clarity he realized these things had already adjusted to his attack before he’d even thrown the punch.

Every hair on his body stood on end as the air around him yawned and stretched. A blue vortex of dark energy bloomed around the synthetic, lifting it effortlessly into the air where it dangled helplessly. Shepard shunted a new round into the shotgun’s chamber and fired it into the machine’s chest, watching in satisfaction as the impact of the slug combined with the power of the biotic field sent it careening backwards with such force that it smashed to pieces on a rock.

Jenkins and the Alliance soldier had opened fire on the rest. Soon all that remained in the clearing was billowing smoke and sputtering chunks of machinery, mixed with the acrid tang of scorched metal.

Shepard looked back at Alenko. He couldn’t see much through the faceplate, but his curled fists and rooted stance told him what he needed to know. “Thanks,” he said. Alenko nodded. Shepard had a feeling he would catch grief later for blindly charging a trio of killer machines.

Not the first time he’d pulled something like that. Definitely wouldn’t be the last.     

The surviving soldier approached Shepard, breathing heavily but still on her feet. “Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212,” she said. “Thank you, sir.”

Shepard scrutinized her. She sounded weary but pissed off. Pissed off was good. Pissed off he could use. “Are you wounded, Williams?”

“No, sir. But my platoon…” She glanced apprehensively up at the spikes.

“What happened?”

He had to give her credit at how quickly she composed herself. “They came out of nowhere,” she said. “Cut our communications and knew exactly where to hit us. I think they wanted the beacon.” 

Shepard started a little. What the hell would machines want with a prothean beacon?

“Who are they?” Jenkins asked, more shaken than she was.

“I think they’re geth, sir,” she said, meeting Shepard’s gaze unflinchingly.

 _Geth_. The word was so seldom heard at first it didn’t even sound familiar. To anyone outside the quarian fleet the geth were little more than mythology, a cautionary tale the Council used to threaten anyone who got it in their heads that AIs were a good idea. 

Alenko frowned. “Geth? But they haven’t been outside the veil in over two hundred years.”

Williams shrugged. “All I know is what I saw. They took down every goddamned member of my unit. They’re way too advanced to be VIs, and unless there’s a race of AIs out there that we don’t know about, that leaves the geth.”

There was something about their shape reminiscent of the quarians, Shepard acknowledged. At any rate, it was the best explanation they had. Shepard eyed her carefully, trying to gauge how resilient she was. Having someone along who knew the layout would make getting to the beacon a lot easier. “We need to get to the beacon.”

“Not without me,” she vowed. “These goddamned flashlight heads aren’t going to get off without a few parting shots from the 212.”

Shepard smiled. He liked Williams. 

“When comms were cut we were sent to the dig site to protect the beacon, but it wasn’t there,” she told them. “Apparently first shift got orders to escort it to the monorail depot for extraction, but the comms were down before the rest of us found out.”

 _Monorail depot_ , Shepard thought. _Nihlus._  

There was a metallic snick as one of the spikes, which Shepard had almost forgotten about and Williams was deliberately trying to ignore, retracted. “Commander,” Jenkins called. “I think you need to look at this.”

Shepard craned his head to get a better look. The body on the spike looked human in that it had two arms, two legs, and a human-shaped skull, but that was where the similarities ended. The body had been…changed somehow, stripped down, mechanized. Ropes of synthetic cord protruded from the cheekbones and traced the contours of its neck before they plugged into the exposed ribcage, which was lit from within by a sickly blue glow. The same light oozed from its empty, hollow eye sockets. What had been human was now little more than a husk.

It moved.

Shepard yelled. Jenkins’ curiosity had overcome his caution, and he had lowered his weapon. With lethal quickness the husk’s hands shot forward and shattered Jenkins’ faceplate. He screamed. Shepard spurred into action, but it was horribly too late.  Jenkins’ scream grew louder, filled with terror and pain as the blue lit fingers reached for his eyes and dug deep.

With a deep throated yell of grief Williams poured bullets into the shambling monster, disintegrating it into a tangle of gore and oily fluid. Jenkins crumpled to the ground. Alenko skidded towards him, but they quickly realized they had bigger problems.

More of the same creatures began to animate, climbing down from the spikes like a mad, undead army.

 _This can’t be real,_ Shepard thought, and opened fire.

 


	4. Proditor

Nihlus lowered the smoking barrel of his assault rifle, calmly wiping threads of milky white conductive fluid off the front of his armor. The geth carcass at his feet jerked, sparked, then lay still. Half a dozen other metallic corpses were similarly strewn about the platform of the monorail station. According to his omnitool scans this was the last station on the southern line, little more than a cargo port built to facilitate supply shipments and exports from area farmers. Between the platform and the modular units on the overlooking hill there was a wide swath of brutal but methodical violence.Someone had been looking for something.

_Geth._ He cast his gaze north, where the dreadnaught still perched eerily in the distance, the flickers of red light encircling its hull bright enough to cut through the swirling murk. Was it possible that out there beyond the Perseus Veil the geth had developed so wildly beyond everyone’s imaginations that they were capable of something like _that_? 

He surveyed the platform of the monorail station. Unorganized piles of crates had been indiscriminately shoved aside, as if someone had hastily cleared a path for something large. _The beacon._ It hadn’t been at the dig site where they expected. The Alliance marines had most likely been moving it to the _Normandy_ rendezvous location. 

The _Normandy_. Nihlus was forced to admit the turian design influence worked well on the human ship, but it was still an odd move by the Council to make such an investment in the Alliance. Humans were reckless, militant, and lacked the self-control and finesse of the other Council races, yet somehow still firmly believed they belonged on the Council. Even more ludicrous, the Council seemed at least willing to entertain their pleas. Humans had not the military prowess of the turians, the intelligence capabilities of the salarians or the wisdom of the asari, but this young, unproven, fragile species still wanted the same honor the turians had to put down the krogan to earn.

Yet despite all of their obvious flaws, everyone seemed to regard humans with careful, grudging respect. They were incredibly fast learners and even more adaptable than the damn salarians. Every time humanity found themselves backed into a corner they somehow managed to find a way to punch back. The turians were not going to forget Shanxi anytime soon, but neither, Nihlus had learned, was the Alliance.

And then there was Shepard. Nihlus had originally objected to the assignment of observing a human soldier, but after reviewing the Alliance’s files he had begun to wonder if he’d underestimated the job. Shepard had a history uncomfortably similar to his own. Flashes of brilliance and skill tempered by a tendency to ignore orders and do whatever was required to get a job done. Shepard’s stand at Elysium was startlingly similar to Nihlus’s victory on Altakiril, yet where Nihlus had been branded a liability, Shepard had been lauded a hero. In that regard Nihlus actually felt a stab of jealousy. Humanity praised recklessness when it succeeded, while the turian military held their doctrine and the chain of command so sacred, losses and defeat were seen as preferable to securing victory by taking your own initiative. 

But it was Torfan that had gotten his attention. The Alliance had only provided the Council with a basic report, declaring that some of the details were classified and off limits. The Shadow Broker, however, had been more forthcoming once Nihlus had offered the right price. Torfan was what made Nihlus think Shepard might be better suited to the Spectres than even the Council realized. There was no place in their ranks for the Alliance’s righteous integrity. You had to be willing to get your hands dirty, and if the intel he’d gotten was good, Shepard was. The Shadow Broker’s intel was _always_ good.

Nihlus had begun to think he might even enjoy this assignment. But now the geth were here, rendering Shepard an inconsequential afterthought. What mattered was finding the beacon, and figuring out why the geth wanted it. 

His HUD flashed, notifying him it had detected a familiar transponder signal. Turian. Nihlus tilted his head, perplexed. Unlike Elysium, Eden Prime was almost exclusively populated by humans, something the Alliance had strived for to prove they could protect a human colony without alien assistance. While it wasn’t impossible to think there were a handful of turians here and there, it still struck him as odd. Especially once he took a closer look at the signal itself. It wasn’t just that his suit had recognized the presence of turian biology. It had recognized the suit the turian was wearing. 

_Saren_ , he noted, his mandibles flaring in surprise. 

What was Saren doing on a _human_ colony, especially one now under the jurisdiction of another Spectre? 

Immediately he headed towards the signal, which was now approaching him from the monorail platform on the lower level. Saren had seen his transponder as well. A small tide of relief washed over him. It had been years since he had last seen his old mentor, and regardless of why he was here Nihlus was glad to have his assistance.

The other Spectre appeared at the top of the ramp. Nihlus paused for a moment, thinking then that something wasn’t right. It was unmistakably Saren; no other turian Nihlus had met bore the distinctive side bone that fanned backward from each side of Saren’s skull. But up close his old friend was a shadow of his former self. Though no report of an incident had reached him, clearly some recent mission had gone dreadfully wrong. The turian’s mandibles were augmented with gleaming slivers of tech, as if to repair some catastrophic damage to his lower jaw. His entire left arm had been replaced by a sleek prosthetic. Over his skull crest he now wore a black hood, making Nihlus wonder if there was something under it Saren wished to conceal. 

He tried to hide his shock, but Saren must have seen it. Saren saw everything. 

“Saren! What are you doing here?”

The Spectre clamped his good hand heavily on Nihlus’s armor-plated shoulder in friendly greeting. His mandibles flexed, the tech implants glinting eerily in the watery light that still leaked through the thick haze. 

“I caught the trail of that ship,” he said, nodding towards the distant monstrosity. “When I realized you were here I thought you could use a hand.” As Saren spoke he hid his prosthetic arm behind his back. He was usually proud of his scars. 

There had always been something oily and knavish about Saren’s voice, but it was one Nihlus had always trusted. For all of Saren’s faults, he had been the one who stood beside Nihlus when the rest of the turian military had been ready to abandon him. Saren was responsible for making him a Spectre. Nihlus owed him everything.

He lowered his weapon.

“I was not expecting the geth,” he admitted, moving to the railing overlooking the lower platform. “This is much worse than I thought.”

Movement caught his eye below. Geth were loading a monorail train with a tall, narrow obelisk wreathed in a strange, greenish effluvium that seemed almost…organic. _The beacon._ But that was not what had his attention. With sudden, horrible realization Nihlus understood why Saren was hiding his prosthetic arm. 

It was a geth arm. 

Panic seized him. One hand moved for his gun, too late. 

“Don’t worry,” Saren said, placing the barrel of a pistol against the back of Nihlus’s head. “I have things under control.”

~

By the time the targets were down, Jenkins was dead. Alenko reached him first, whipping out his medkit as he hit his knees beside the corpse. Blood and serum leaked from the dead man’s eye sockets, his neck bent at an unnatural angle where the creature had finally snapped it. Alenko sat helplessly, dose of medigel in one hand, the other raised in a helpless gesture. Shepard dropped a hand on the lieutenant’s shoulder, feeling the tension and anger right through his armor. “We have to find the beacon,” he said gruffly. “Get the situation under control.”

Alenko flinched, swallowing his rage and grief like glass. After a lengthy pause he nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Shepard pulled him to his feet then glanced over at Williams, who was scuffing her boot in the loamy ground and deliberately averting her gaze from the carnage. Shepard remembered her cry of anger, and with sick clarity realized the husk she had gunned down was probably someone she had known. “How far to the monorail station?”

She looked up, her expression blank. “Not far.” 

_Resilient_ , Shepard thought again. 

A loud peal of thunder sent a shudder through the air around them. Williams cringed. Shepard followed her gaze to the horizon in disbelief, where the dreadnaught had powered up and was _ascending_ smoothly back into the void. Shepard doubted even the _Normandy_ was capable of that kind of maneuver, and it was only a frigate. This mammoth ship was somehow able to take the laws of physics and use them as play toys. Shepard’s skin crawled. 

“We’re out of time,” he growled. “Move.”

Williams led them up a hard-packed, recently constructed dirt road that curled up and around a ridge, past several clusters of hastily built modular units. Research stations, Williams told them. Or what was left of them. The geth had ransacked them in their search for the beacon. An unchecked fire raged through one of the units, though the other two were intact enough that there might be survivors. Shepard briefly thought about pausing to check, but the dreadnaught’s departure had fueled him with urgency. They would have to wait for the Alliance garrison to get help. His comm clicked as Alenko opened an audio feed to him, but the lieutenant closed it without speaking.

_Wise move,_ Shepard thought. There was a time and a place for  Alenko’s unquenchable altruism, but this wasn’t it. Thankfully Alenko realized it, too. 

Past the research camp the road descended once more down towards the monorail station, a small, two level structure layered over the precipice of a gorge. Across the gorge a thick line of trees guarded the undeveloped land beyond, through it ran the sleek, gleaming rails of the monorail track as it raced towards Constant. A cluster of crates burned in a far corner and parts of the platform bore the scorch marks of a firefight, but it was largely intact, which told Shepard someone had needed it. His combat scanner was clear, but even with Alenko’s upgrades Shepard wasn’t going to put his full faith in it, not after their surprise by the drones. 

“Take a look around,” he said tersely. “I don’t want any surprises.” 

But there was one, and Alenko found it first. 

“Commander!”

Shepard spotted him kneeling over a body near the railing overlooking the lower level. From a distance it looked too bulky to be human, but also didn’t appear to be a geth. 

Nihlus.

“Shit,” he muttered, covering the distance to the body with a few quick strides. 

“What do you think happened?” Alenko asked, looking up at Shepard with one arm resting wearily across his knee. 

With an irritated swipe of his hand Shepard released the neck seals of his helmet and pulled it off his head to get a better look. A rush of thick, humid air converged on his face, and the fire had turned the air gritty. He grimaced when the smell of the corpse hit his nostrils. 

One of the most surprising discoveries he had encountered since joining the Alliance was how differently the dead bodies of aliens smelled. The smell of a dead batarian, for instance, was a completely different stench from that of an asari or turian, and none of them were the same as that of a human. Though it was an unusual sign of how different they all were, in the end they all stank, regardless of species. Or at least that was the profound line of thinking he’d had in a bar on Arcturus after Torfan.

Shepard rolled what was left of the turian over so that he was lying face up. What had happened seemed clear enough. There was a hole in Nihlus’s head. Blue blood had caked over the white markings of his face, bits of gore and graymatter spattered on the ground. The question facing them was who had done it. Nihlus hadn’t struck Shepard as the type who got caught with his guard down. 

“A turian?” Williams looked at the body, idly fingering the trigger of her rifle as if she thought she might pump a few more bullets into the corpse just to make extra sure he was dead. “There aren’t any turians on Eden Prime that I know of. You know who this is?”

Shepard nodded. “He was with us. A Council Spectre.”

“A _Spectre_? The Council sent a Spectre after the beacon?” 

Shepard did not answer her. Instead he looked at Alenko. “We need to find out what happened here. If that ship made off with the beacon I’m going to be _really_ pissed.” 

“Hey!” a voice cried. All three of them turned, the barrels of their guns finding the speaker almost before their eyes had spotted him. A terrified human male crouched behind a stack of crates. He was short, young, with bushy eyebrows almost hidden by a low set black cap. He was wearing a well-worn jumpsuit emblazoned with an ExoGeni logo. “Don’t shoot!” he cried, warding them off with his hands. “I’m a colonist.”

“And you thought it was a good idea to sneak up on three armed soldiers?” Shepard asked. 

“Sorry. I’m just…I’m just really happy to see someone who isn’t a machine. Can you help us?”

Williams was the first to lower her weapon. “I’ve seen you before. You work here at the docks. Powell, right?”

He nodded, clearly not wild the marine knew his name. “Me and some of my shiftmates have been hiding behind the crates,” he started, the words falling out of his mouth at a rapid clip, his eyes shifting nervously between Shepard and Alenko, who were still suspicious. “They didn’t look too hard when they came through here. Just wanted to get somewhere else.” He motioned towards the monorail. “I heard voices…something other than the geth. Didn’t sound human, but it was talking. So I crept out to see who it was.” He nodded to Nihlus’s corpse. “Turian. Two of them. I thought maybe they were here to help us…” He glanced at the corpse and shuddered. “Apparently they weren’t.”

“You saw another turian?” Alenko asked. 

“Yeah,” he said, emboldened by their interest. He stepped out from behind the crates. “Big one. This guy knew him,” the man said, toeing Nihlus’s corpse. “Called him by name, like they were friends. But when this one turned his back, bam. Shot him point blank.” 

That part of the story was true, at least. 

“What was the name?” Shepard asked. 

“I don’t know. They’re all turians! One name’s as weird as the next.” 

Shepard took one deliberate step toward him. “Think,” he demanded. 

Powell’s eyes darted nervously to the side, hands kneading together as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Ok! Gimmie a minute, gimmie a minute…Saren. Yeah, that was it. Your friend called him Saren!”

Shepard’s mouth tightened. The name was remotely familiar, but he couldn’t think why. “Where did he go?”

“He took the train with the other machines. They had the beacon with them. Are they really geth?” 

“The beacon?” Shepard said sharply. “Are you sure?”

Powell bobbled his head vigorously. 

“Stay here and keep out of sight. Rescue teams will arrive soon.” Shepard turned abruptly away before Powell could say anything more, settling his helmet back in place until the seals caught with a soft hiss. Alenko and Williams immediately fell into step beside him as he headed down the ramp. The monorail was a double track, and thankfully a second, open air cargo train was still docked, half of its cargo still waiting to be unloaded. At least they had some luck on their side.

“Can you operate this thing?” Shepard asked as they boarded, edging their way around the metal crates sealed with the ExoGeni logo and bags of seed. A water reacclimator, brand new and still in its anti-grav seal sat untouched at the rear of the train. Alenko scanned the controls briefly, activated his omnitool and entered a few key sequences. “Think so, Commander. It looks like the last train stopped at a spaceport halfway to Constant. If the beacon’s still on the planet, that’s where we’ll find it.” 

“Williams, what do you know about that spaceport? 

She shrugged. “Not much to it. Handles mostly cargo. It’s a catchall for the southern settlements. From there everything gets either sent on to Constant or shipped out on freighters.”

“Layout?”

“Bigger than this station but similar layout. Exposed, open air. The rail runs right through the middle of the station. When you get off you have to go through the upper level storage facilities to get to the docks.” She hesitated. “We can probably find cover in the storage bays, but it’ll be pretty easy to get flanked. Not the best place to start a firefight.” 

“That seems to be in keeping with today’s events,” Alenko muttered. “Good news is I can disable the controls at the spaceport, so at least they can’t see we’re coming until we’re close enough to get a visual.”

Shepard smiled to himself. “Good work.”

Alenko waved his omnitool in front of the control panel, bringing the monorail to life with a heavy thrum. Shepard gripped the railing, not terribly pleased at the prospect of riding a high speed rail in an open car. The floor shifted under his feet as the train shot away from the station. Wind whipped against his helmet with increasing force as the train picked up speed, filling Shepard’s audio feed with a dull roar. The ground fell away as the train hurtled through the gorge. On either side of them the trees were reduced to indiscriminate blurs of dull green while ahead of them the smoky skyline of Constant drew steadily nearer. 

 


	5. 2:29

 

There were more than a dozen pings on Shepard’s combat scanner as they approached the spaceport. According to his omnitool the monorail track cut through the station on an open air sublevel, surrounded by a wide catwalk that would make it easy for the geth to hit them from higher ground.

“Williams,” he said. “Can you snipe?”

She nodded grimly, reaching for the single shot sniper rifle she packed on her back, engraved with an Elkoss Combine logo. _Need to get this girl a better gun_ , Shepard thought. If the Alliance was doling out volus-made crap to its planetside garrisons, it was a wonder any of their colonies were still standing. He withdrew his own sniper. Shepard had managed to use his N7 status to scrounge a license for Haliat Armory. Say what you wanted about turians, they knew how to make a good sniper rifle.At the press of a button the barrel extended to its full length with a quiet hiss.

Shepard hoisted the rifle, sighting down the scope as the monorail approached the station. Despite their high speed, the targeting suite in his Onyx readily locked on to a pylon node he targeted through the scope optics.

“Let’s see if we can take away their advantage before they realize they have it. Alenko, any chance you can create a diversion for us if we need it?”

There was a brief silence. Shepard could almost hear Alenko analyzing his HUD data and calculating how many tech mines he had left. “I think I can overheat their weapons if we’re close enough. And I should be able to overload their shield generators like I did the drones. That’ll at least make them easier to take out.”

The train began braking for arrival. Through his scope Shepard spotted two geth on the upper storage levels adjacent to the spacedock. They were approaching the catwalk railing, apparently to investigate the incoming train. He honed in on the first and squeezed the trigger. The sniper rifle bucked against his shoulder as the slug ripped free of the barrel with a loud crack, finding its mark right in the blue orb of its head. The geth shuddered, took a staggering step and then dropped.

Williams took out the second, nailing it with equal precision.

Shepard leapt off the train before it had fully halted, pressing his back up against the incline of a ramp that led to the upper level and the storage bays. From here they were out of sight from the railing, but there was nothing to stop the geth from sighting them on the ramp itself.

He glanced at his combat scanner, then edged towards the bottom of the ramp and chanced a quick look at the railing. There was a long row of empty partitions. Most of the geth seemed congregated towards the far end of the storage bays, with the exception of two or three that were now heading their direction.

“Commander?” Alenko asked, in a tone that Shepard did not like at all. “We have a problem.”

“Spit it out, Alenko,” Shepard said, spying two more geth making their way towards them along the railing, larger than the troopers, wearing distinctive white armor and carrying pulse rifles. Behind them rumbled something even bigger, carrying what might have been a rocket launcher. _Great_.

Alenko feverishly swiped through readings on his omnitool. “I’m detecting explosives. Lots of them. Rigged all around the storage bays…and they’re on an active timer.”

“They want to destroy the spaceport?” Williams asked, unable to contain her surprise.

“No,” Shepard said, mind working fast. “They want to destroy the beacon. It’s still here. They got what they wanted and now they want to make sure no one else can do the same.” _And that’s not going to happen._

There was only one easy way up to the second level – the ramp they were now hiding behind. From there he could try to circle the catwalk from the opposite side, but there was little to no cover and Shepard didn’t care to test the accuracy of an AI targeting system. He felt the weight of the grenades pack on his hip. Full frontal assault it was.

“Alenko – I need you to deactivate the bombs. Preferably before they go off. Williams will cover you.”

“What about you?” Alenko asked sharply.

“I’m going to look for the damn beacon.”

“That thing up there has a rocker launcher!” Alenko cried.

“Not for long,” Shepard replied. Alenko looked like he wanted to object, but Williams grabbed his arm. “Yes, sir.”

Shepard slid as close as he could to the far end of the ramp without exposing his head to the geth and crouched low. “Lieutenant,” Shepard said. Alenko glanced up from his omnitool, where he was rapidly scrolling through disarm codes. “I’m going to take as many of them off you as I can. I don’t want to die down here, got that?”

Alenko nodded, setting his jaw. “You won’t, sir.”

~

Kaidan Alenko had no intentions of dying either. When Shepard banked the turn onto the ramp he had already zeroed in on the first bomb, just meters away from them on the platform in easy view of anything on the catwalks. But the numbers on his omnitool were not encouraging.

Four bombs. Four minutes.

“Can you keep them off me long enough to disarm them all?” he asked.

Williams clutched the barrel of her assault rifle, which she had exchanged in place of her sniper. For just a moment, Kaidan thought she had reached the end of her rope. Her unit had been wiped out by machines and turned into living zombies she’d had to shoot down, and now he was asking her to risk her life to help someone she’d just met save not the colony, but the prothean beacon that had caused the attack in the first place. It was enough to hit anyone’s breaking point. But he was wrong.

Williams closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “How long do you need?”

“Well, if it’s more than four minutes you won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“Alenko, for both our sakes I hope you have really fast hands.”

Without further discussion they ran for the first explosive. Kaidan dropped down next to the device, a simple, hastily made cylinder about the size of his footlocker. Above them on the catwalk he heard the crack and sizzle of a grenade going off. _Shepard._ Sometimes Alenko didn’t know whether the commander was just that good, or a guy with a death wish and a never ending stream of good luck. On days like today he didn’t want to know the answer.

The decryption program he’d selected for the job was already running through his omnitool, which cast an eerie orange glow on the smooth, gunmetal surface of the bomb. It was one of his pet programs, one he’d been tweaking for months. Right now it was sorting through thousands of known explosive configurations to help him isolate and trigger the disarm protocols.

Three minutes, forty two seconds.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered.

He heard the pendulate whine of a geth pulse rifle and instinctively rolled to the left. Williams let out a yell and sprayed the railing above them with bullets, but before they could reach their target a blue energy field bloomed in front of it in the shape of an opaque hexagon. Each bullet ricocheted off the shield with an angry flurry of sharp _pings_. The shield shimmered under each impact, oscillating from blue to pale orange in color.

“What the hell!” Williams exclaimed.“You mean to tell me these assholes have _mobile_ cover?”

Kaidan thought fast. It had to be some sort of kinetic shield. Shields could be overloaded, but he couldn’t take his attention away from his omnitool to program a tech mine.

“Left hip compartment!” Kaidan yelled. “Grab a mine! You’ll have to program it with an overload charge.”

He felt the Gunnery Chief’s hand on his left hip, scrounging for the mines. He angled towards her a little to give her better access. The entire time she kept her other hand on the trigger of her rifle, shooting a chaotic hail of bullets with one hand.

Three minutes, thirty six seconds.

“How the hell do I program this thing?” she asked once she’d fished one out.

Kaidan felt sweat dripping down his forehead, threatening to fall in his eyes. Almost subconsciously he adjusted the temperature controls in his HUD. “Ahh…you have to set the detonation output to pulse. Then overclock the KEO by a factor of…um...six point seven eight. Charge it with your omnitool. Just be careful – that gives it a short fuse!”

Williams fiddled with the mine when the geth dropped back behind his shield and lobbed it up over the railing, smiling in satisfaction at the geth’s dismayed warble when it detonated with a burst of electricity. The shield evaporated, leaving behind an acrid smell like singed hair. Williams had already started shooting, peppering the armor of the now-defenseless geth until it seized and fell. She cackled.

Two more geth had spotted them from the opposite end of the catwalk. One of them was enormous, with yellow markings, a thick set of antenna protruding from its back and a rocket launcher in its hands. Williams swore. “Why couldn’t they have chosen a place where we could have _some_ tactical advantage?”

Three minutes, twelve seconds.

“Hate to rush you,” Williams said, “but are you almost done?”

“Almost,” he said, willing the decryption protocol to work faster. So long as it worked on the first, the others would go quickly.

The chronometer on the bomb froze. “Got it!” Kaidan yelled. But he didn’t have time to revel in the victory. Williams grabbed the gun holster on his back and yanked him backwards as the giant geth opened fire. He stumbled, hard, flailing an arm and rocking back on his heels in an effort to keep his balance. Williams, hands still on his holster, braced his fall and thrust him sideways as hard as she could. As he hit his knees she was already diving for the gun she had dropped. In one deft movement she had scooped it up, rolled, and opened fire.

The rocket hit the ground where Kaidan had been moments ago with a boom. The blast knocked him on his side, his kinetic barriers bleeping in sudden alarm. Reflexively he clenched his fists and held his arms tight in front of his chest. His amp hummed, and a bright blue corona of biotic energy flared around him before tightening to fit the contours of his body like a second layer of skin.

Williams’ assault rifle never ceased its menacing chatter. It had to be close to overheating, and if it did they were screwed. “You _mother fuckers!”_ she bellowed.

Alenko struggled back to his feet, trying not to look too closely at the blackened floor panels. He put his hands on Williams’ shoulders, guiding her towards the ramp. “Good news is, I got it,” he yelled. “Bad news is, there’s three more!”

“Then let’s hurry the hell up, shall we? I’d hate to run out of these bastards.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kaidan agreed, and sought out the next bomb.

Two minutes, twenty nine seconds.

~

Shepard hated it when Alenko was right. Taking on the white shock troopers had been one thing, but the giant, yellow striped metal bastard was packing a plasma shotgun in addition to the rocket launcher, and up close turned out to be an eleven foot tall monster that liked to use itself as a battering ram. The antenna on its back had been as thick as Shepard’s arm. Command unit. Maybe that at least meant there weren’t many more of them.

The breach alarm in his hardsuit wailed as he limped towards the docks. He was pretty sure it was somewhere between the ablative plating of his shoulder guards. The front of his armor had been seared black and breathing hurt his ribs, but at least he was still breathing. It had either been a rocket to the chest or being too close to one of his own grenades. Shepard chose the latter.

He took temporary shelter inside an empty storage partition, helmet thunking heavily against the metal wall as he leaned his head against it. With a weary hand he poked around his shoulder looking for the breach, finding it right where he suspected. At the shoulder joint over his collar bone there was a jagged hole in the ablative coating that went right through to the kinetic padding.

There were still geth between him and the docks, four according to his scanner. He was down to two grenades and minus a shotgun. It had overheated in his confrontation with the giant destroyer and the time it would have taken to stow it behind his back was as long as the geth would have needed to finish him off. So he’d dropped it instead.

Behind him he heard the oscillating fire of the geth rifle and shouting from Williams. For a split second he thought about turning back. He should not have left them. But if the geth and whoever this Saren was were after the beacon, he could not afford to do otherwise. One of them had to get the beacon. If the geth had it – or Saren for that matter – it was Shepard’s job to stop them. Alenko’s job was to make sure they didn’t blow up in the process.

Shepard groped for his assault rifle, held it in front of his chest for a moment and exhaled deeply. Then he ducked out of the storage bay and headed for the docks. Before getting to the ramp he dug out a grenade and tagged the location of the geth on his combat scanner. As he rounded the corner he trusted to the scanner and let it fly. Before it even hit the ground he opened fire with his rifle, running the heat sinks almost to overheat. White fluid and chunks of cable spattered Shepard’s armor as he walked steadily towards them, pumping a stream of bullets into their metallic hides.

Three of the four went down before he finally heard the screech of the overheat klaxon. The last geth standing had managed to point its rifle, but Shepard was close enough now that he gripped the casing of his gun with both hands, swung the barrel up and used it as a club, slamming it into the synthetic rib cage as he kicked its feet out from underneath it. The get emitted a discordant shriek as it hit the ground. Shepard pulled out his pistol and fired point blank into the blue light of its face, smirking as the light flickered and then died.

With a sharp exhale Shepard slid the pistol back in its holster and turned away, getting his first clear look at the dock. A handful of cargo crates were stacked around the wide open space. There across from the ramp, sitting on the edge of the dock was a tall, dark spire throwing off wisps of soft, green vapor. The beacon. They _had_ left it. And since Saren was nowhere to be found, he had to assume that the renegade turian had absconded with the dreadnaught. _Why leave it here?_

He approached it warily. The beacon’s slender stalk rose from the center of a simple but elegantly sloped base. A few steps closer he thought he could detect a low hum, one that he felt rather than heard, like it had slipped under his skin and crawled inside his bones.

Shepard paused, but it was too late.

_Oh, shit_.

The beacon flared with an explosion of green light. The hum intensified until it was strong enough to rattle his teeth. Its green glow snaked out and snared his frozen, rigid body, lifting him off the ground until he was suspended, helpless, several feet above the platform. White hot fire pricked at his brain, worming its way hungrily inside until it found the deepest corners of his mind and clamped down.

 

 


	6. Exstirpatio

_Shepard drifts amongst the stars, watching as a single world gives birth to life. He sees them, watches them stand on unsteady feet, grow swift and strong, speak with halting voices words he does not understand. Always they seek, explore, desire, hunger, gazes turned to the sky._

(we are prothean and we traverse the stars) 

_They spiral outward from a single pinprick into the wide open arms of the galaxy. They build, love, live and die, the ebb and flow of their tide reaching out to unnumbered shores on unnumbered worlds. _

_But there are empty spaces between the stars, a cold interstitum of utter dark, where blood runs black and monsters lurk. In the silence something broods, waits, watches. They are patient, constant, relentless. And they are far, far older than the infants now taking their first halting steps across the galactic sand._

_From deep slumber they emerge, stirred by the warmth of these new, fragile creatures. The monsters are awake, and they set the stars ablaze._

_One by one these brave new worlds crumble into ash, the screams of the dead piercing even the silence of space._

_Shepard closes his eyes. The stars vanish._

_This body is not Shepard’s. He sees with its eyes, hears with its ears and breathes with its lungs, but everything about it is strange, utterly unfamiliar. Alien._

(we are prothean)

_Nothing here is right. The air, the soil under his feet, the towering edifices scraping against the skies. All familiar, but all inherently wrong, like standing on Earth rotating under the wrong sun. Light casts old shadows, wind glazes his cheek like the finger of a ghost. The air in his nose smells like the dust off of old paper. It is all real, but so far…so present but so remote, like wandering through an increasingly reverberating echo, each reiteration growing fainter and more distant. _

_The hum and bustle of living surrounds him, gliding past like memories that casually intersect everywhere he turns. Their blurred, shapeless forms bloom into familiar faces. Anderson. Jenkins. Major Kyle and the rest of his unit from Torfan. He recoils. They are as wrong as his surroundings, masks pulled over ill-fitting flesh, some futile attempt his brain makes to translate the unknown into something he can grasp._

_Amongst them is a woman with auburn hair that catches in a forgotten breeze. His heart drops to his feet._

(not her, not her, not her, she’s dead, it’s not her)

_Her eyes are hollow, black, though Shepard remembers when they were blue. She smiles with no teeth. Despite her wrongness she is beautiful. She is whole. Shepard weeps._

(no, batarians, fire, they set her on fire, she’s dead she’s dead it’s not real)

_The skies grow dark. This is not the dark of night. This is something more, something evil, something he cannot stop._

(they are coming) 

_He pushes toward her, through a sea of men he sent to a bloody, wrathful death. They watch him with cold eyes, oily shadows pooling at their feet, ribcages exposed and glowing blue. They whisper in his ear as he forces himself past, fingers grasping and ripping at his skin._

(they are coming)

_Shepard cries to her, the woman who gave birth to him, but he is too late, everything is too late. Jenkins, with his gaping, empty eye sockets, plunges his fingers into her skull until blood gushes forth in terrible sanguineous abundance. Shepard screams, raw and deafening in his grief, but his hands slip through Jenkins like vapor._

_Hannah Shepard opens her arms to her son in a sea of blood, welcoming machines that descend like locusts, speaking with red fire and the blowing of horns._

_They are coming, they are coming they are coming theyarecomingTHEYARECOMING_

~

“Shepard.”

His eyes opened with a snap. All he could hear was his rapid heartbeat thrumming in his ears. Black, oily shadows danced in front of his eyes, slowly fading into the dull, gray striated walls of the _Normandy’s_ med bay. Pain flared behind his eyes, pounding hard and steady against his skull.

“Commander Shepard!” 

With a start he realized he was gripping the wrist of a white faced Dr. Chakwas. He released it quickly, looking around him in a near panic, certain he could see dark figures lurking in the corners of his vision.

Dr. Chakwas rubbed her wrist, looking at him with wide eyes. “Commander, it’s all right. You’re safe on the _Normandy._ ”

“Sorry,” he said, drawing in a shaky breath. “I’m – sorry.” 

“Are you all right?” 

Shepard closed his eyes, willing the pain in his head to recede, to no avail. But this time when he opened them his surroundings seemed more concrete, less dreamlike. He shuddered. A red light flashed somewhere nearby, casting red halos onto the ceiling. His hand drifted to his head, fingers gingerly probing his temple. Somewhere he could hear something ticking, the sound digging into his brain like a splinter. Slowly he curled into a sitting position, back hunched and legs hanging off the side of the bed. He kept one hand against his head, still wincing even in the dim light of the infirmary, the other draped protectively across his chest. 

“Shepard, how do you feel?”

“Like the morning after shore leave,” he croaked. “What happened?” 

“It was the beacon,” another voice spoke up. Ashley Williams, his tortured mind informed him. She stood in the opposite corner of the room, visibly relieved. “The LT and I got down to the docks in time to see it suck you in. It must have overloaded. You got caught in the blast.”

Eden Prime. It came back to him in a rush. 

“And the beacon?” he asked, dreading the answer. 

“Destroyed,” she said reluctantly. 

Shepard swore under his breath. 

Dr. Chakwas picked up a medical scanner, hand trembling ever so slightly, and lowered herself to Shepard’s eye level, aiming the device at his forehead. The lines at the corners of her eyes deepened as she scrutinized the results. “You’ve been out for several hours,” Chakwas told him, in her soft, British lilt. “Aside from a couple of cracked ribs you don’t appear to be worse for wear, but I did register some very peculiar brain activity.” She smoothed a strand of silver hair back in place before folding up the device and slipping it back into its case with a click.

“I was…dreaming,” he recalled, though it wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t even a nightmare. It was worse. “It was…I’ve never experienced anything like it. It was so _vivid_.”

She sorted swiftly through a drawer and produced a hypo-injector that she pressed against his neck. “See if that helps. The ribs will probably be sore for a day or two. I ran you through a bone knitter while you were out. Once the new tissue is mature you should be as good as new.”

He rubbed the skin where she injected him. Moments later the tightness in his head loosened just enough that he felt a little of his humanity return. “Thanks, Doc.”

She raised a knowing eyebrow, hint of a smile in her features. “The Captain warned me you’d be a regular. I just wasn’t expecting him to be right two days into our tour.” 

“What can I say, I’m precocious.” He heard Williams’ derisive snort from across the room, along with the sound of someone clearing his throat. The throbbing in his head had been so loud he hadn’t even noticed Captain Anderson’s arrival. 

“Glad to see you upright again, Shepard,” Anderson rumbled. 

“Captain,” the doctor acknowledged. “Your sixth sense is working rather well today. Commander Shepard just came to.”

“What’s his status?”

Chakwas folded her arms loosely across her chest. “Everything looks normal. I’d say he’s going to be fine. Still, I’d like to run a few more tests before I release him, just to be safe.”

“Good. With your permission, I need to speak with him. Alone.”

Both Chakwas and Williams cleared the room without argument. When the door cycled shut it was quiet enough to hear the hum of the fluorescent track lighting along the walls. The throbbing in Shepard’s head increased slightly. 

“Sounds like you took quite a hit,” Anderson said finally. “Sure you’re all right?”

Shepard squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve had much worse, sir.”

The silence fell again, but Shepard didn’t need help to interpret it. These days Torfan sat between them like a giant chasm. He dropped his hand into his lap, avoiding the Captain’s gaze. There wasn’t anything in it he hadn’t seen before, but he was tired of getting it from Anderson. 

Eventually the Captain sighed, his stern features relaxing just enough that for the first time since Shepard had known him, he looked old. “You were never good with technology.” 

Shepard allowed a small, pained smile. “Alenko, ah, had his hands full at the time.” 

“So I heard,” Anderson said, strolling towards the opposite end of the med bay, pretending to examine something on the wall. “I admit I was a little worried about bringing an L2 biotic on board, but if his report is accurate a blow to the head would have been the least of your worries if he and Chief Williams hadn’t been there.” 

For a moment Shepard thought he heard reproach in Anderson’s voice. Looking at the back of his head it was impossible to tell for sure. “We’re lucky we found Williams when we did. She knew the colony, knew where the beacon was headed. Without her Alenko wouldn’t have even had a chance to diffuse those charges.”

“Alenko said she held off half a dozen geth while he was disarming the bombs.” Anderson clasped his hands behind his back, still facing the wall. “Sound familiar?” 

Shepard grunted, unwilling to give him the response he wanted. 

“I put in a request to have Williams transferred to the _Normandy_ ,” Anderson went on. “According to Alenko she has what it takes, and we...had an unexpected opening.” 

Now Shepard was sure there was an unspoken accusation in his tone. A quick flash of unexpected anger made his skin hot. Not once had Anderson asked him to explain what had happened during the raid. He merely accepted, like everyone else, that Shepard had earned his nickname by fulfilling a personal vendetta at the cost of his men. _Not everything can be like Elysium, goddammit,_ Shepard thought. _Jenkins was not my fault._

Memories of the husk digging its pale fingers into Jenkins’ eyes sent a shudder down his back. Shepard never imagined he’d find anyone more sadistic than the batarians, who took sick delight in how much pain they could inflict on a living body. But the empty eyes of the husks and the geth’s cold indifference somehow made them much, much worse. 

“I couldn’t save Jenkins,” he said abruptly. “That was no goddamned place for an FNG. We had no idea what we were walking in to.”

Anderson’s hand twitched behind his back. “Jenkins was a soldier. He knew the risks.” 

“Yeah,” Shepard muttered. 

With a deep sigh Anderson finally turned to face him. “Things look bad, Shepard. Nihlus is dead, the beacon’s destroyed and the geth showed up out of nowhere with a ship more advanced than anything in our fleet. The Council wants answers.”

Shepard scowled. “So do I. I don’t like losing, sir. But the deck was stacked against us before our boots ever hit the ground. Eden Prime wouldn’t be more than a salvage operation if we hadn’t shown up.”

“I stand by your actions, Shepard,” Anderson said after a reluctant pause. “But according to Alenko’s report this is even more complicated than it looks. He claims another turian was down there, and that he murdered Nihlus.” 

“Saren,” Shepard confirmed. 

An odd expression crossed Anderson’s features. “That’s…going to be a problem.”

“I figured as much,” Shepard said, rubbing the back of his neck with a grimace. 

“Then you’ve heard of him?”

Shepard shifted on the medical bed, sending a lance of pain through his ribs. He gritted his teeth. Sometimes he was sure the pain from a bone knitter was worse than the broken bone. “The name rang a bell. I figured that couldn’t be good.” 

“He’s a Spectre,” Anderson confirmed, the words seeming to leave a bad taste in his mouth. “One of the Council’s best. And you’re telling me he’s working with the geth. Do you see the problem?”

Shepard noticed him toying with the hem of his sleeve. Nihlus had made Anderson uncomfortable, too. _What don’t I know?_ “That’s why I’m a soldier and not a politician.” 

A ghost of a smile passed Anderson’s lips. “Unfortunately, when you’re in command you become both. And it gets better.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Saren’s ruthless. Brutal. A rogue Spectre is bad no matter how you look at it. But this one also happens to hate humans.” 

Shepard rubbed his temples. His mind ached to the point he had to force himself to think. “Ok. But that’s not why he was at Eden Prime. He wanted something from that beacon. And whatever it was, he got it. By the time we got there he was gone.” 

Anderson sighed in frustration and began to pace. “Did you get _anything_ from the beacon before it exploded? Any clue to what Saren might be after?”

A violent spasm of images knifed through Shepard’s brain. Desperation, terror and hopelessness awash in a tide of blood pressed against his eyelids like shards of glass. The pain in his head flared to such intensity he thought his skull might rip in half. They were so vast, so many… 

_And they all died screaming…_

“I had a vision,” he managed finally, swallowing it all back before it could consume him. “I think it was the protheans. They were…slaughtered. Billions of them. By synthetics.”

Anderson justifiably looked taken aback, but surprisingly didn’t dismiss it out of hand. “And…you think this vision came from the beacon?”

“I know it didn’t come from _me_.” The feeling of powerlessness clung to him like a leech. He rubbed his hands along his thighs, as if he could somehow wipe his hands of the protheans and anything to do with them. “It felt like something was digging in there, trying to bore a hole in my brain. Not something I would wish on someone else, sir.” 

Anderson watched him carefully for a few moments before speaking again. 

“Well, there’s no way to find out what Saren has. But I know him. I know his motivations. And now he has prothean secrets and a geth army at his back.” 

The vehemence in his voice took Shepard by surprise. 

“He’s after humanity, Shepard. He wants us all dead. And with the resources of the Spectres he can go anywhere, do anything. Even if we can find him we won’t be able to touch him.” He smacked a balled fist against his hand. “We have to convince the Council to go after him.” 

Anderson’s anger dissipated almost as quickly as it had developed. When he looked back at Shepard he was neither the Anderson who treated him like a son nor the Anderson who treated him like the Butcher of Torfan. Now he was merely Shepard’s captain. 

“Get some rest,” he said. “We’ll reach the Citadel in about eighteen hours.” 

The door cycled shut behind him, leaving Shepard alone in the med bay. Shepard squeezed his eyes shut. The beacon’s nightmare still lurked right behind his eyelids. He didn’t think he’d be doing much sleeping for the foreseeable future. 

~

In the dimly lit cargo bay of the _Normandy,_ Ashley stared at the locker matching the number Navigator Pressly had given her. This close to the drive core she could hear a steady, rhythmic thrum vibrating through the deckplates under her feet. Behind her loomed the bulky shadow of an infantry tank a couple of generations newer than anything they’d had on Eden Prime.

She’d sprung the lock with the proffered code only to discover that it hadn’t been empty. A collection of datapads and personal holos were stacked neatly on the upper shelf. A couple of uniforms, stiff and starched with a clean, new scent hung from the hangers. One pair of boots had been tossed casually in the bottom, resting on top of a backpack with the name _Jenkins_ stitched near the top. 

They had given her a dead man’s locker. 

Not that she had much to put in it yet. All she had was her armor and guns. Her other scant belongings were sitting down in the now deserted barracks of Arcadia, surrounded by the ghosts of the 212. They would probably stay there, too. She didn’t want them back. If the Alliance ever got around to the task of sorting through any of it she’d tell them to just ship hers to her mom. 

_I need to get a message to her,_ Ashley thought to herself. 

She’d even had to talk to the requisitions officer about finding a set of fatigues so she could actually get out of her armor. For several hours after she and Alenko had hauled Shepard’s unconscious body onto the _Normandy_ she’d had to stomp around in her hardsuit. No one had been able to lay hands on a pair of boots her size, so she was still wearing the ones that went with the armor. She was tempted to check and see if Jenkins’ boots were her size. 

It seemed like a lifetime ago she’d been excited to get into that Phoenix. Now she didn’t care if she ever wore it again.

Ashley wandered around the deserted cargo bay until she found an empty crate in a pile stacked next to a weapons bench. This ship was so new the guns were literally right out of the box. Dutifully she began packing the crate with Jenkins’ things. 

_Look at me now, Sonsini_, she thought. _Where you and I always wanted to be._ Planetside garrison to serving on a ship commanded by one of the Alliance’s most decorated captains and an XO who’d been awarded the Star of fucking Terra. It was like living in her ultimate fantasy and worst nightmare at the same time. The Williams’ curse was a thing to behold.

She laid Jenkins’ boots in last, guiltily thinking she should have put them on the bottom but unwilling to take everything out and start over. Just handling this stuff in the first place felt like a violation. She hadn’t known this kid at all, and here she was with her fingers all over the intimate objects of his life.So instead she just snapped the lid of the crate closed, entered Jenkins’ service number into the inventory manifest and shoved it over in a corner for someone else to worry about. 

Her stomach rumbled. It occurred to her she hadn’t eaten in about twelve hours. She also hadn’t slept for at least twenty four, but she hadn’t been assigned a sleeper pod yet and the thought of cramming herself into one of those upright canisters creeped her out. Especially since she was willing to bet when they finally assigned her one it would turn out to be Jenkins’. No, eating was definitely preferable to sleep right now.

She clomped her way to the crew deck elevator in her overly conspicuous Phoenix boots. According to the Sirta database they were supposed to have been an amber-red color, but in person they were more of a blushing pink. If she wanted to make a good impression on her new crewmates, she was doing a bang up job. 

_As usual, Williams, you’ve just got winner written all over you._

~

Lt. Jeff Moreau lounged back in his seat as he watched the static discharge roll away from the _Normandy’s_ drive core into Zion’s magnetic field. The gas giant’s atmosphere churned under the auroral effects of the dump. Gave the place a little charm.

Anderson had wanted to march right on to the Citadel without stopping to purge, but Adams down in engineering had insisted on radiating the hull and dumping the drive charge before the relay jump. It was the first time they’d used the IES, he’d argued, and he wanted to make sure all was in order before getting to Widow. Pressly had agreed, and Anderson finally caved after being reminded of the long lines at the Citadel discharge facilities. The radiation purge had gone smoothly enough. Now they were just waiting on the charge vent.

The last sheets of lightning died away, and Joker’s terminal flashed. Lazily he flicked a comm switch to engineering. “Adams. I’m reading green. What’s your board say?” 

_“Everything looks normal. Heat sinks are back online and the drive core is spinning back up. We’ll be ready to head for the relay shortly.”_

“Hear that, old man?” Joker asked, directing his query to the CIC. He could sense Pressly’s hackles rise from here. Pressly was exactly the kind of guy he liked, too old to give much of a shit about protocol and cantankerous enough to see the galaxy map like most old men saw their front lawn. He enjoyed yelling at the young folk to get off the grass. 

_“Laying in a course for the relay,”_ Pressly grumped. “ _ETA about five hours.”_

“Good,” Joker declared. “Chase can handle the helm for a few hours while I catch a nap.” He ignored Pressly’s retort and glanced over his shoulder at the young corporal sitting in front of a haptic interface in the CIC hallway. She had short brown hair and an imperturbable demeanor that Joker kind of hated. “You got this for a few hours?” he asked. 

“Yes, sir,” she said cheerfully, sliding out of her chair. She waited patiently while Joker snapped on the leg braces and groped for his crutches, pulling himself out of his seat with the gracefulness of a three legged rhinoceros.

Joker could handle being around the big, beefy marines. It was when he stood next to a pert, good looking officer with Addison Chase’s perfect curves that he felt like a helpless invalid.

One of the crutches tipped dangerously as he floundered for balance in the cockpit’s enclosed space. He waited for the telltale crack of bone as he desperately brought it back to bear, exhaling with relief when it didn’t come. Though Chase’s expression didn’t change, Joker felt a dangerous flush building around his neck. With an unintelligible mutter he retreated from the cockpit with as much speed as his pathetic, mechanically assisted body would allow.

Sitting at the helm of a ship Joker was an indomitable force. Thousands of kilos of metal sinews, kinetic energy and heat would dance and skim a faster than light choreography under his skilled but fragile fingers. He could outmaneuver, outgun and outrun any pilot he’d ever met, but once he left that chair it was a miracle for him to take a routine piss without fracturing a hip. 

Vrolik’s syndrome was a bitch.

Growing up on Arcturus, he’d watched ships his whole life. But even on the station he was the odd one out. His parents weren’t military – just contractors. Joker was a civilian kid living a military life among humans that were not only humanity’s finest and fittest, but in most cases even had military issue gene modification to boot. And then there was Joker, an ill-fitting meat suit hanging on a useless skeleton. 

The first time he’d sat in a pilot’s seat his dad had just been humoring him. For Joker it was like finally being born. Flying just made _sense_ to him. There was an inherent cadence to it that he couldn’t explain or describe but intuitively understood on a level that apparently no one else did. His academy instructors had called him a savant. In turn he called them dilettantes, which really earned him a lot of good will. It wasn’t his fault they weren’t in his league.

No one in flight school had liked him, but that was fine since he didn’t like any of them. He was there to learn, there to fly, and the rest of it didn’t mean shit. The nickname “Joker” was supposed to be an ironic moniker for the kid who never smiled, but come graduation he’d been grinning ear to ear. His file was crammed full of honors and commendations and now he’d earned the biggest prize of all.

His ship was goddamned beautiful. The mere idea of letting someone like Chase fly her, even on autopilot, was a little like being ok with some other guy feeling up your girlfriend. When you had a girl like the _Normandy_ , you wanted everyone else to look, envy, and keep their paws the hell off. 

He did have to sleep eventually though, and the few hours before the relay jump was his best chance. The only thing that could compare to flying the ship was sleeping in it – he was maybe the only man alive who preferred sleeper pods to beds. Anything he could step into verses climb on was a plus, and the antigrav suspension system even managed his bodyweight so he couldn’t crush anything or roll over on his side and fracture a shoulder.

Pressly was still in the CIC when Joker gimped through, frowning at a datapad in his left hand and tapping commands into his haptic interface with his right. Two third shifters sitting around the galaxy map looked utterly bored.

“Better get some beauty sleep while you can,” Joker said around a yawn. “We get to park at the Citadel with the cool kids in a few hours. Don’t you wanna look sharp?” 

Pressly scowled at him over the datapad. Joker wondered how the man could have white hair on the sides of his head but brown scruff on his face. “Would it kill you to use ‘sir’ here and there?”

“What, I don’t get sympathy tolerance for being a cripple? Where’s the handicap pity?”

“I save my pity for the people who need it.” 

Joker grinned from under the brim of his ballcap. Yes, he definitely liked Pressly. 

The navigator opened his mouth for some other retort when someone else emerged from the CIC stairs. 

Damn. Shepard looked like _hell._

Joker had heard about their XO before he’d reported to the _Normandy_.  The hero of Elysium, in the flesh. But accompanying every Elysium accolade was a whisper about the clusterfuck on Torfan, and no one seemed quite sure what to make of him. Joker was dreading some wounded heart soldier with an over exaggerated sense of honor and duty who spent his rack time crying in a corner about the cold, cruel world. But when Shepard stepped through the airlock it took about a nanosecond for Joker to decide that whatever had happened on Torfan had definitely been a clusterfuckfor someone, just not for Shepard.

Shepard immediately struck him as the kind of man who just didn’t give a shit what anyone thought about him, and not because he had a chip on his shoulder like Joker did. Public opinion was simply _below_ him, something that literally didn’t matter. Anyone who thought their opinion did matter would only have to take one look at him to realize their mistake. 

Somehow the man just commanded attention, like something in his genetic makeup had the power to make people shut up and listen. Shepard was tall, sure, especially next to Joker’s diminutive five foot three frame, and had the kind of physique that made it clear he could put someone through a wall without thinking about it too hard. But that wasn’t what made him so imposing. Joker thought it had more to do with the simple observation that Shepard was a man who was thoroughly comfortable in his own skin, seeming no less fragile in his fatigues than he was in his armor. It was a feeling Joker couldn’t even fathom.

But that Shepard wasn’t the one who had just shown up in the CIC. This Shepard literally looked like he’d stuck his head through hell’s door and was trying to come to grips with what he saw there. His broad shoulders were slumped and narrowed, he walked with the stiffness of someone guarding a few busted ribs (Joker knew that look – he’d busted enough himself) and his face was haggard. But it was the haunted look in his eyes that was really alarming. Shepard had an uncanny ability to convey everything you needed to know about where you stood with just one glance – he either looked at you with the full force of his gaze, or through you like you were vapor. But right now his eyes were dazed and bloodshot, as though everywhere he looked some nightmare leered from the shadows. 

One glance told Joker Pressly was just as taken aback.

“Thought Dr. Chakwas had you prisoner in the infirmary,” Joker said, trying to keep his tone light. 

Shepard glanced over, almost surprised to see they were even there. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said, running one hand wearily over his close-shaved head. “Didn’t think anyone else would be up.”

“The old man and I were just finishing up the drive dump. I’m on my way to join the pod people.” 

Shepard nodded. 

“You all right, sir?” Pressly ventured. “I heard you took a pretty nasty blow to the head.”

For just a second Shepard’s eyes flashed with something vivid, almost _angry_. But it passed just as quickly, his expression becoming watery and unfocused once more. Joker wasn’t sure which was worse. 

“Fine,” Shepard said. “Anxious to get to the Citadel.”

“Ever been?” Pressly asked, relieved to have somewhere to go with the conversation. 

“No,” Shepard admitted. 

“You’re going to love it. I came once on the _Agincourt_ , spent a few days. It’s quite a place.”

“I prefer ships,” Joker said.

Pressly rolled his eyes. “In more ways than one.”

“Shut up, Baldy.”

Shepard did not answer, gazing absently at the galaxy map. Joker and Pressly exchanged glances. “Commander,” Joker said carefully. “I was going to head to the mess for a few, see if I could dig up any grub. Wanna come?”

Shepard frowned. “I thought you were going to crash.” 

“Great pilots never crash. Besides, constant paranoia I might break a rib makes me a bad sleeper anyway.”

Shepard hesitated, but nodded. Joker resumed his course towards the stairwell, anxious to get off his feet. The commander followed almost in a trance. _What the hell happened down there_? Joker wondered, at least until they reached the stairwell. Then all he could think about was finding whatever turian had thought stair access to the CIC was a good idea and punching him right in his fucking face. 


	7. Caeli Flos

It did not matter how many times Kaidan traveled through a mass relay. The approach and subsequent reordering of reality never failed to astound him. Consequently, when Joker initiated the transmission sequence and made his final calculations, Kaidan was right there in the cockpit, leaning against a bulkhead and watching the view out the shutters.

Behind him a heavy pair of boots treaded towards the cockpit. Chief Williams appeared in his peripheral, eyes wide and curious. Serving planetside she probably hadn’t had many opportunities to experience a relay jump.

The massive silhouette of the relay loomed large, an enormous but elegant prothean relic that had utterly changed the course of humanity. As they made their final approach the giant oscillating rings began to spin, churning a web of blue energy that made Kaidan’s most powerful biotic display seem like a firefly trying to outshine the sun. Instinctively his muscles tensed, as though bracing himself would make any difference if something went wrong.

The _Normandy_ hummed in greeting as the mass effect field lashed out and ensnared the ship, propelling them down the relay’s fluted nose and into a virtually mass-free corridor of space, like an interstellar slingshot. The stars shivered violently under the blue trellis of dark energy before everything – including the stars – vanished and reformed into the thick, billowing gases of the Serpent Nebula.

Williams exhaled with obvious delight, Kaidan with imperceptible relief. When you didn’t understand the technology you were using, he always counted himself lucky when it worked. Their impromptu Gunnery Chief apparently had no such reservations; once they cleared the relay she gripped the back of Joker’s seat with long fingers in her haste to get a better view, inadvertently rocking him backwards. He shot a venomous look over his shoulder which she promptly ignored, instead craning her neck and rocking forward on the balls of her feet. A few strands of her long, dark hair floated loose from the hasty bun that still looked damp in places from a recent shower.

Ashley Williams. Kaidan could still feel her hands yanking the back of his hardsuit, see the scorch marks crisscrossing the ground that should have been his skull. Without Ashley Williams, Kaidan was a dead man, and he wasn’t sure how to process that yet.

She was still stuck in the ill-fitting fatigues the requisition’s officer had scrounged up for her, not to mention those hideous armored boots, but if she was bothered by it at all it didn’t show. Other than a tightness at the corner of her eyes and a little too much staccato in her step (though to be fair, that could have been the boots), Kaidan would never have guessed that 48 hours ago she’d been knee deep in death, the sole survivor of nearly thirty men.

“Look at that!” she exclaimed, pointing over Joker’s shoulder.

“I see it,” he said irritably, swiping at her hand. “Watch out, I’m driving here.”

The metallic gleam of the Citadel emerged slowly from the nebulous haze. Like the mass relays, it never failed to humble even the initiated. The seven billion ton structure was the largest known deep space station, a solitary beacon wrapped in a blanket of blue-lit gas and debris, nearly impossible to reach without the aid one of several relays paths funneling to it. Kaidan couldn’t fathom the effort the protheans must have exerted to build it. Less than thirty years ago humanity hadn’t even known it existed. Now it served as the center of galactic politics, home to over 13 million people of nearly every known spacefaring species, humanity included.

From the central ring of the Presidium stretched the long, concave arms of the five wards, all latticed with frenetic lines of light and activity. Each arm was nearly 350 meters wide, a whopping 43 kilometers long and engendered its own unique, microcosmical community that according to Kaidan’s XO on the _Bangladesh_ were as elitist and seedy as any major city found on Earth.

In its standard formation the Citadel arms opened wide enough to fit a triangular rift of space between each, roughly as wide as the arms themselves. Though Kaidan had never heard of it actually happening, supposedly the arms could fan open until they were nearly in the same plane as the ring, or seal shut to create an impermeable, cylindrical shell.   

“Hell of a place.”

“Shepard,” Kaidan said, whirling around in surprise. The commander stood behind him with his arms crossed casually across his chest, weight shifted to his right as he gazed out the shutter with an unreadable expression on his face. It was a look Kaidan had come to associate with Shepard, who had a maddening knack for analyzing a situation without giving away the slightest hint of what he thought about it.

 Kaidan hadn’t seen him since he’d emerged from the med bay, but aside from the dark circles under his eyes he looked none the worse for wear. Shepard nodded a greeting, but otherwise kept his gaze trained on the shutters.

“Citadel control, this is _SSV Normandy_ , requesting permission to dock,” Joker announced through the comm, ordering everyone else in the cockpit to shut up with a glare.

“ _SSV Normandy, this is Citadel Control. Standby for clearance.”_

A handful of ships drifted just outside of the Citadel arms, several frigates mixed with a couple of cruisers, all dwarfed in size by a dreadnaught with a massive drive core. The sheer density of it, accented by four fins jutting out from each side like the points of a compass, a distinctly asari design, would have been far more impressive had they encountered it before the dreadnaught on Eden Prime.

“That thing is huge,” Williams said in hushed tones.

“It’s the _Destiny Ascension,_ ” Kaidan told her. “Flagship of the Citadel fleet.” According to the extranet that monster crewed 10,000 people, and had more firepower than all the other ships in the fleet combined.

“Size isn’t everything,” Joker muttered, lovingly stroking a console with his fingers. Williams rolled her eyes.

“Someone’s touchy.”

“I’m just saying. I bet it takes month to calculate burn vectors on a ship like that. I’ll take the _Normandy’s_ maneuverability over that tank any day.”

_“SSV Normandy, you have been granted clearance. Begin your final approach. Transferring you to an Alliance operator.”_

“Roger, Control. _Normandy_ out.”     

The wing of Tayseri Ward yawned beneath them as the _Normandy_ glided towards the docking facilities along the Presidium ring, weaving in and out of Citadel traffic lanes. This close Kaidan could see the spike of the Citadel Tower bisecting the ring. He did not envy Anderson and Shepard’s task of dealing with the Council. Kaidan had never met the human ambassador, but if his personality at all resembled the gruff, nasal disdain projected in the vids the Captain would be lucky to get through the meeting without someone’s face smashed against a bulkhead. Shepard _hated_ politicians.

Anderson hailed them through the comm. “ _Shepard, Williams, Alenko. Meet me in the airlock as soon as we’re cleared to disembark.”_

Shepard sighed a little, motioning for Kaidan and Williams to follow. Williams pulled herself reluctantly away from the view, tucking the escaped stands of her hair back behind her ear. “My sister’s going to freak out when I tell her about this,” she said with a grin.

The _Normandy_ shuddered as the docking clamps took hold. An hour later the four of them stood in the airlock as the ship’s VI dutifully updated them about the interior pressure/exterior atmosphere sync. Kaidan fidgeted a little, shifting his weight from foot to foot with an occasionally sideways glance at Anderson. If the Captain’s expression was any indication, his communication with Ambassador Udina before their arrival had not gone spectacularly well. Shepard, as usual, was unreadable. Only Williams seemed blissfully unaware of the tension.

The crank and clatter of docking bay activity greeted them when the airlock finally cycled open. Dockworkers shouted back and forth over the sibilance of hydraulics, mingled with the zip of cabling being dragged from ship to ship, the crack of welding torches and echo of maintenance equipment, all muddied into a cavernous blur of sound.  They exited onto the long steel catwalk and entered an elevator to Citadel Security, sealing off the cacophony as the door clamped shut.

The low light and sculpted contours of C-Sec formed a sharp contrast to the docking bay, but the place was just as active. The expansive atrium housed a hive of activity, new arrivals waiting in long customs lines, people entering and exiting the various elevators to the Wards. Officers wearing the distinctive C-Sec uniform – mostly turian, but a few other council and even non-council races – hurried back and forth between offices that branched off from either side. A pair of trees, asari in origin by the looks of them, guarded the docking bay elevators, an unexpected flourish to the efficient but drab architecture.

Thankfully Anderson had somehow gotten their clearance process expedited, earning them the glares of others still standing in line as they went through the screening process, registered their sidearms and headed quickly towards the Presidium access elevator. It didn’t take much to get Ward access, but the Presidium was a much more restricted area, far more affluent than the Wards and home to the Council itself. Its Taurus-style ring was not unlike Arcturus in shape, but that was where the similarities ended. Where the Alliance military hub was constructed to meet a basic standard of living and little more, entering the Presidium was like falling into the lap of luxury.

Green parkland, intermingled with sprawling lakes and perfectly manicured trees, cut a swath through the Presidium’s center, spanned by a series of slender crisscrossing bridges. On one stood a monument to the krogan’s victory in the Rachni War, still standing in spite of the unsavory Krogan Rebellions that later proved their downfall. Another boasted a statue to the mass relays themselves, a miniature scale model of the very gateway they’d just traveled through on the _Normandy_ , reproduced in startlingly exquisite detail.

Open air shops, restaurants and various embassies lined the Presidium’s sleek, curved walls, all basking under the simulated light of an artificial blue sky. When Kaidan closed his eyes and inhaled even the recycled air smelled real and fresh in his lungs. A handful of skycars zoomed past, all of them makes and models that undoubtedly carried a higher price tag than what Kaidan could expect from ten years of Alliance income.

Because of its proximity to the center of spin, gravity was lighter here than in the Wards, making Kaidan’s first few steps disorienting until he got used to it. Anderson appeared impervious to both the gravity and resort-like atmosphere, heading straight towards the human embassies about a hundred meters to their left.             

 Kaidan leaned conspiratorially toward Williams, who was similarly agape, not paying any heed to where she was going. “I hear they even simulate a sunset and nightfall,” he said. “Wouldn’t that be a sight? When’s the last time you saw a sunset?”

“Two days ago,” Williams replied.

Kaidan clamped his mouth shut. _Idiot_.

Humanity’s embassy shared a multi-story structure with the elcor, of all beings. A few of the four-legged, heavy-bodied creatures ambled about the open foyer, their distinctive monotone voices droning over the din. If the Presidium’s low gravity bothered Kaidan, the elcor had to just hate it. Though the words “affluent” and “elcor” hardly seemed to go together, the rich, ornate fabric they wore around their thick, muscular legs and over their broad backs clearly stated he was wrong.

Amidst the bustle of the embassy Kaidan was surprised to find a squat, four legged aphid creature worked the haptic keys of a low set terminal with a pair of spindly arms. It paid no attention to the lumbering elcor stumping around it, nor anyone else for that matter.

“Huh,” he said aloud. But no one else heard.

An asari with uncomfortably forced enthusiasm manned the reception desk at the center of the embassy foyer. Anderson spoke to her briefly, then gestured for Shepard to follow him towards a staircase to the upper level. “You two stay close,” he informed Kaidan and Williams. “Ambassador Udina may want to speak to you about what happened.”

“Yes, sir,” Kaidan replied. Shepard cast a pained look over his shoulder as they made their way up the stairs. Once they were gone Kaidan exhaled in relief.

“Hey, what’s that thing?” Williams asked, pointing to the same creature Kaidan had noticed moments ago. Before Kaidan could stop her she walked right up to it, squatting down to its level. The creature ignored her completely.

“Please don’t disrupt the keepers,” a recorded voice chimed. The Citadel VI, an asari-shaped projection that introduced itself as Avina, shimmered to life on an adjacent terminal at their approach.

“What are they?” Ashley asked, taking a step back and crossing her arms over her chest.

“The keepers are the enigmatic caretakers of the Citadel,” the VI said serenely. “You may see them involved in various tasks in all areas of the Citadel. Please do not interfere with them in any way. Because the keepers are essential to the smooth operation of the Citadel, obstructing their daily work will result in harsh penalties, including incarceration and rehabilitation.”

“Rehabilitation,” Williams scoffed. “Lovely.”

Intrigued, Kaidan scanned another entry from the VI’s database. Sapient, incommunicative but non-threatening creatures that had maintained the Citadel presumably since the protheans built it. They moved about the Citadel however they pleased, sometimes coming and going using undiscoverable routes.

Well, that was a little creepy. They lived on a station being maintained by a race that had wandered around for 50,000 years on their own and didn’t talk or even acknowledge anyone on it. And in all the stories you heard about the Citadel, they never came up. Strange that something so odd and undiscoverable could fade so easily into the background.

“Come on,” Williams said suddenly, grabbing him by the arm. The keepers had lost her interest as abruptly as they had found it.

“Whoa, where are we going? Anderson said to wait here.”

She made a face. “He didn’t say wait _here,_ he said stay _close._ Now come on. There are a ton of shops here, and I need to get myself some clothes so I can look a little less like a giant tool.”

Kaidan snorted. “You think either of us can afford anything we find _here?_ ”

“There’s got to be an Alliance kiosk somewhere. _Close,”_ she added when she saw his expression. “Come on, LT. Live a little. Not only are we on the Citadel, we’re on the _Presidium_. Think we’ll ever get to poke around here again? Let’s go.”

Kaidan thought again of her grip on his back, altering his trajectory, the coppery tang of burnt metal. Saving his life had come so naturally to her, so easily. For her it was almost an afterthought, for him it meant continued existence.

 _Live a little._  

He went.     

~

The C-Sec uniform was usually all it took to get what he needed from a file clerk. But Garrus Vakarian learned quickly that to be a Spectre file clerk you apparently needed the ego of a damn Spectre. He tapped his talons impatiently on the pristine counter, resisting the urge to grab the salarian sitting behind it and rip the fleshy horns right off his head. The impervious clerk blinked his amphibious eyes, the rounded bulbs of his fingers skimming the haptic keys for what had to be an exaggerated length of time.   

Despite the uniform, the grating counter tapping and his best don’t-mess-with-C-Sec expression, the biofeedback readouts on Garrus’ visor informed him that the salarian felt about as threatened as a krogan being taunted by a pyjack.

“I’m sorry, Officer Vakarian,” the salarian said finally, his treble tone not sounding sorry at all. “That information is also classified.”

“Oh for the—Nihlus is _dead_. There has to be something in those files that isn’t classified.”

The salarian blinked again. “Have you tried the Citadel archives?”

Garrus’ mandible twitched. “Twice.” 

“I’m very sorry,” the salarian said. “I wish there was something more I could do to help.”

In moments like this Garrus almost – _almost –_ understood why his father hated Spectres so much. Too much power, too few restrictions. Saren might be a criminal hiding behind his title, but at least he didn’t have to deal with C-Sec’s nightmarish bureaucracy to get something accomplished.

It had been less than 48 hours since Executor Pallin had dropped this investigation in his lap, but already it seemed an impossible task. Every last detail of Saren’s Spectre career was classified. The Council, despite their request for the investigation in the first place, refused to answer questions. Saren’s former military connections wouldn’t return his calls. Garrus had even dug up the name of the man who’d trained him for Basic on Palaven, only to have him clam up at the very mention of Saren’s name.    

Garrus splayed his talons across the counter, leaning the full weight of his armored carapace against it. To his satisfaction the salarian actually leaned back. “Saren Arterius is dirty,” he said, subharmonics dripping with frustration. “And it’s people like you – ”

“ _Officer Nevik to Vakarian. Sir, I have a message for you from that med clinic in the upper Wards._ ”

Upper Ward clinic. That meant Dr. Michel. The human doctor, one of only a few licensed to treat turians. Sweet girl with a bad habit of falling in with the wrong people. Garrus had done a little off-the-clock PI work to solve a blackmail problem for her not long ago, the kind of work that Pallin could have his job over.

But if he’d done it Pallin’s way and gone by the book, the way his father always screamed about, at best Michel would have lost her clinic, worst her life. Either way the blackmailers got off scot free. The way Garrus did it, the Wards kept a good doctor and got rid of some baggage that wouldn’t be missed. Justice was done, and he didn’t feel the slightest iota of remorse.      

He liked Dr. Michel. He just didn’t have time for her now. “Is it important, Nevik? I’m really busy at the moment.” He glanced at the salarian, who had gone back to his terminal and now ignored him completely.

“ _I’ll forward you the message.”_

Garrus sighed. Regardless he wasn’t getting anything more out of the Spectre Archives, and he had an hour before he needed to meet with Pallin at the Tower. He’d hoped to interview the human Commander, Shepard he thought the name was, when his ship arrived, but the Alliance rep had patiently informed him that the Commander along with his CO were closeted in a meeting with the human ambassador.

Without saying goodbye he left the Spectre Archives, found himself a bench in front of a volus financial center and pulled up his omitool. Not far away, a haggard looking C-Sec officer from Enforcement did his best to shut up a hanar preaching loudly and incessantly about the Enkindlers. Garrus shook his head. Dealing with the jellyfish was something no one at C-Sec particularly enjoyed, not because of their overabundance of religious zeal so much as there was no good place on a tentacle to slap a pair of handcuffs. 

After making sure there no one stood in immediate earshot he pulled up the message, rerouting the audio portion through his personal comm so it wouldn’t be overheard. His translator always had trouble with her thick accent, thicker than most humans he’d dealt with.

_“Garrus, It’s Dr. Michel.”_

The familiar sight of her humanoid face and red skull fringes popped into view through his omnitool projector. She looked distressed. Garrus’ mandibles flexed. _What the hell is it this time?_

“ _I didn’t want to bother you again, but I don’t know who else to call. I treated a quarian in my clinic yesterday morning. She…she was in trouble. She had information she wanted to trade for her safety, so I put her in touch with Fist’s people-”_

Garrus groaned. How did a woman with such good intentions get tangled up with people like Fist? His name was _Fist,_ by the Spirits.

“ _But I’m worried-”_

No kidding.

“ _She told me what she had, and then I started seeing all these vids about the geth, and rumors about that Spectre…”_

His plates tightened.

“ _I think she’s in over her head. And if anyone finds out she was here, I’m afraid someone will come looking for her…and me. I don’t know what to do.”_

Garrus checked the signal frequency of the message to see how well it was coded and swore. She’d tried, he gave her that. But if Saren’s people wanted to bury evidence her mediocre encryption job would hardly slow them down. He glanced anxiously at the chronometer in his visor display. No time to go there now. He had to make his way towards the tower to meet Pallin. At least now he might have good news once he got there.


	8. Proelium Imperator

Garrus’ meeting with the Executor did not go as planned. 

“He’s dirty, Pallin. You and I both know it. I just need time to prove it! This investigation is just getting started and I-” 

“There is no investigation,” Pallin replied forcefully, mandibles flaring in agitation. “And you will refer to me as ‘sir’ or ‘Executor’ or I’ll have your badge.” The stark white clan markings on his face stood out sharply against his dress uniform, blue and purple accented with red striping that meant he’d actually been in session with the Council before Garrus arrived.

Garrus and his superior had never exactly gotten along, but it took every ounce of Garrus’ restraint to keep from telling him to shove his crest up his ass. Standing in the Citadel Tower, surrounded by the opulence of the Council chambers and the preening diplomats - at least four in Garrus’ peripheral vision that he had files on a meter thick - had never made him feel so dirty.

“But _sir,_ I have a lead. I just need-” 

“Drop it, Garrus. That’s an order.”

The Executor gave him no further chance to argue, turning his back and heading towards the Presidium elevator.

“Barefaced bastard,” Garrus muttered under his breath. Too late he realized there was a trio of humans standing behind him, listening to every word.Two males and a female, all wearing Alliance uniforms. The male with the almost non-existent fringe actually looked familiar.

“Investigating Saren?” the familiar looking one asked. _Shepard_ , Garrus realized. The one who’d been on Eden Prime. Through the blue glow of the visor covering his left eye he took a quick read of the Commander’s biorhythms, discovering he was disturbingly calm for someone about to meet with the Council about a traitor and the re-emergence of the geth. 

Garrus had known a few humans during his time with C-Sec. Some were ok, some were like that two bit louse Harkin who spent more time at the bottom of a bottle than he did at his post. Though there were still plenty of turians who liked to hold a grudge against humanity for old time’s sake, Garrus had never really taken issue with the soft-shelled, outspoken species. But something about this human almost made Garrus stand up and salute. He’d never had that urge in front of Pallin, even as a new recruit. 

“Commander Shepard,” Garrus acknowledged. The commander raised his chin slightly at the recognition. “I’m Garrus Vakarian.I _was_ investigating Saren. I don’t have hard evidence, so the Executor shut me down.  Saren’s a Spectre. Everything he touches is classified.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth. 

Shepard crossed his arms, a distinctly human form of body language that Garrus had encountered during his time on the Citadel. 

“Sounds like you really want to bring him down.”

“I don’t trust him,” Garrus replied, fully aware that the Presidium Tower was not the place to be airing his frustrations and refusing to care. “Every time his name comes up, it’s associated with something no turian should have his talons in, Spectre or no. But without evidence, I can’t prove it.” 

“Did I hear you say you had a lead?”

Garrus hesitated. _Careful._ _You’re standing on the edge of a knife as it is._ “If there’s no case, there’s no lead.”

The shorter male with a thick, dark fringe that was taller than Shepard’s gave his commander a nudge. “The Council’s waiting for us.” 

Shepard nodded, then fixed Garrus with a shrewd, piercing look. “Thanks for your efforts.”

Garrus suddenly had the feeling he’d just been more thoroughly examined in those few seconds than any evaluation he’d ever faced in his career. 

“Good luck,” Garrus said with a tilt of his head. “Maybe they’ll listen to you.”

The odds of that were slim, but he had the distinct impression the Council was going to get more than they bargained for with this one. 

~

Down in the Wards, the opulence of the presidium was replaced with the tenor of living. In the right places there was just as much glitz and glamor, but it was interlaced with the societal pitfalls that the Presidium tried so hard to fence out. The Upper Wards in particular almost seemed to take offense to their proximity to the Presidium. Garrus always got the feeling that the shop keepers in the markets here felt more compelled to extort and gouge their customers simply to console themselves for being so close yet so far from the ring’s wealth. What they didn’t realize was that the same thing happened on the Presidium. Only difference was the criminals there did their dirty work over wine and hors d'oeuvres, and had enough money to be sure they never got caught. 

Dr. Michel’s med clinic was tucked away by itself at the far end of the observation windows overlooking Shalta Ward as it stretched out into infinity before finally bleeding into the starry horizon. Hovering along its length was an ocean of light and movement, with skycars zipping to and fro amidst a maze of starscrapers, so vast and yet so infinitesimal relative to the giant gaseous cloud waiting beyond. The curved edges of the other four wards could be seen around the periphery, all just as alive as Shalta. It was understandably a view that attracted tourists and locals alike, but tonight Garrus wasn’t here to see it.

Shortly after the meeting in the Tower he had contacted Dr. Michel, telling her to stay put and wait for him to arrive. But before he could go there he’d been forced to help take care of a small problem with a very large krogan mercenary who Fist insisted was trying to kill him. Since Michel had mentioned Fist in her message, he figured it was best if the sorry excuse for a human being stayed alive long enough for Garrus to find this quarian she mentioned and see if she really had something on Saren. But that meant it had taken him longer to extricate himself from C-Sec than he had planned. Now Dr. Michel wasn’t answering her comm. 

He hurried through the corridor, feeling rhythmic bass beats thrumming though the floor plates as he passed by the stairwell to Flux, the new casino. His brain was trying to tell him something, but he was in too much of a hurry to register what it was until he came to the med clinic door.

There was no one at the observation windows this side of the Presidium access tunnel. 

_Damn it!_ Garrus had been so preoccupied with hating Pallin and Saren and everyone trying to stonewall his investigation he hadn’t taken the right precautions to protect the _one_ lead that he had. 

The door was locked. Garrus pulled out his omnitool and requested the C-Sec decryption algorithm that would allow him to unseal the door. As soon as it started running he reached for his sidearm, wondering if opening this door without backup was going to be the dumbest – and last – thing he ever did. 

It swished open almost silently. There was no hail of gunfire. Instead he heard raised voices coming from the opposite end of the clinic, just out of sight of the door. A long, curved counter separated the reception foyer from the treatment area. Garrus crouched low and crept over to the counter, listening carefully while keeping out of sight. 

“I don’t know where she is!” 

Garrus winced at the sound of Dr. Michel’s distressed cry. One look at the biofeed on his visor told him her heart rate was through the roof. It also told him there were four men with her, all human. The LADAR – and his own common sense – told him they were armed. He gripped his pistol tighter, vehemently wishing he had a rifle.

“Fist thinks you talked,” one of them growled.

“I didn’t tell anyone, I swear!”

“Good. That was smart. Now if Garrus comes poking his beak around here, you better stay smart. Or else we’ll-”

The door swished open again, the milky light of the wards washing through the reception. Three shadows draped over him. Reflexively Garrus whipped his head over his shoulder. 

_Shepard_?

There wasn’t time to dwell on it further. Shepard and his Alliance companions hadn’t come to the med clinic expecting a fight. Shepard looked around in the open doorway, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the darker interior. Just long enough to be noticed.

“Who the _hell are you_?”

One of the thugs was apparently now within eyesight of the door. Garrus heard Michel shriek. In one quick breath he rose from cover, using his visor to triangulate the shot even as he turned and aimed his pistol. The thug had wrapped a forearm around Dr. Michel’s neck and pointed a gun at Shepard’s face, no idea that Garrus was even there. _Now’s your chance!_

_Crack!_

The slug hit Michel’s captor right between the eyes. She screamed as his now dead-weight nearly dragged her to the ground with him. Frantically she ducked her shoulder and squirmed away, back peddling from the body. Garrus felt a flush of pride over the shot, then quickly remembered there were three other armed men in the room. 

Out of the coroner of his eye he caught a flash of blue. He barely had time to recognize that one of Shepard’s men was a biotic before an angry whorl of dark energy snaked past his head. At the same time Shepard vaulted over the counter, not giving a second glance to the man who was now suspended helplessly in mid-air. The muzzle of a pistol flashed, the shot ricocheting off Shepard’s kinetic barrier with a crackle. The Alliance commander bore the impact without breaking stride, grabbed the shocked thug by collar of his shirt and threw him forcefully into the third. Garrus heard the crack of another pistol, as the female human calmly dropped them both with two well-placed shots. 

Shepard glanced over his shoulder. She shrugged. 

“You were having all the fun.”

Garrus slid his sidearm back in its holster with a click, feeling better than he had in months. He’d made some nice shots in his time, but that one definitely cracked the top ten. “Perfect timing, Shepard,” he said. “You gave me a clear shot at that bastard.”

Shepard eyed him with that same careful expression he’d worn in the Tower. “That was risky,” he said, and Garrus wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a rebuke. “You could have hit the hostage.” 

_But I didn’t_ , he wanted to argue. Though he was forced to admit it hadn’t exactly occurred to him what might have happened if he had.

“I-” he started, then sighed in frustration and looked over at Dr. Michel, who stood now with her arms wrapped protectively around herself, red fringe hanging about her face in disarray, trying very hard not to look at the bodies on her floor. “Dr. Michel, are you all right?” 

“Yes,” she said after a long pause and a deep breath. “I’m fine. Thanks to you. All of you.”

“Who were those men? Why were they threatening you?” Shepard asked. It was at that moment Garrus realized he had no idea how or why Shepard was even here. 

“Fist’s men,” she said. “He owns Chora’s Den, the club on the other side of the markets.” She glanced uneasily at Garrus. “They wanted to shut me up about the quarian.”

Garrus tilted his head. “But I thought you sent the quarian to him?”

She nodded, running her hand absently up and down her left arm. “She had information she wanted to trade for her safety. Fist is an agent for the Shadow Broker.” 

“Not anymore,” Shepard interrupted. Garrus and Michel stared at him. He seemed almost surprised at their sudden interest. “Fist works for Saren now. And I don’t think the Shadow Broker is too happy about it.”

Garrus worked his mandible, wondering how in the hell this human, who had never set foot on the Citadel before this morning, suddenly had a better handle on things than he did. 

“Fist betrayed the Shadow Broker?” Michel asked. “That’s _stupid_ , even for him!” 

“How do you know that?” Garrus demanded. 

Shepard looked nonplussed. “I met with a volus banker on the Presidium. Turns out the Broker isn’t very pleased.”

“Barla Von, I’ll bet,” Garrus muttered under his breath. Shepard nodded. 

The human female grinned and smacked her fist into her palm. “Apparently the Broker wants Saren ‘taken care of.’” 

The other human elbowed her, eyebrows furrowed. C-Sec had made Garrus somewhat adept at reading human expression – for a turian, at least – but there were still plenty of intricacies that eluded him, especially where the eyebrows were concerned. Eyebrows were a unique human feature that Garrus still couldn’t interpret or find the advantage of. 

“Von indicated the Broker hired a krogan mercenary to handle the problem,” Shepard continued.

“Wrex,” Garrus muttered, recalling the monstrous hump of the krogan mercenary they’d detained. Urdnot Wrex wasn’t just a krogan. He was a full blown _battlemaster_. Everyone in C-Sec was afraid to so much as touch him, and the krogan had known it. They wouldn’t hold him long, though if they were really brave they might have tried to take his shotgun away. Quickly Garrus pulled up his  omnitool and scrolled through the most recent C-Sec reports. His mandible twitched. 

“We had him detained in C-Sec, but it looks like he was released about twenty minutes ago. If we’re going to talk to Fist, we probably need to do it fast. The Shadow Broker pays well, and a krogan like this one isn’t going to worry too much about the legal repercussions of shooting him.”

Shepard nodded at Dr. Michel. “You said Fist owns that place Chora’s Den?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then let’s go.” 

Shepard turned to go, then paused and looked back over his shoulder, head cocked to the side as he raised one of those infuriating human eyebrows. It took Garrus a moment to realize he was being invited along.

Somewhere in the back of his head he heard the echo of his father’s voice, subharmonics brash with admonition. Going with Shepard would mean hell to pay with Pallin, maybe even the end of his career. But Garrus was pretty sure he’d started down that path all on his own, just by walking into this med clinic. 

He went. 

~

Chora’s Den was a dive tucked into a forgotten corner of the Upper Wards. From the chrome lined walkway leading to the entrance Shepard could see neon lights throwing off unflattering halos of distorted color. Poorly placed speakers tuned just loud enough to be uncomfortable played a never ending beat that always sounded the same. They had to edge between two krogan bouncers who savagely eyed their sidearms to even get through the doors. Inside an expansive circular bar took up the center of the room, while the circumference was lined with tables and dancing platforms where scantily clad asari danced and shimmied around a pole, their blue skin taking on an occasional purple hue under the mingling glare of the lights. Shepard felt dirty just walking in. 

The clientele covered nearly every known species represented on the Citadel, though it was slanted more in the favor of humans and turians. Shepard always found it amusing that while at first glance humanity had little in common with the turians, once you got past the surface their motivations were uncomfortably similar.

To his left he heard Alenko’s exhale of disgust and couldn’t help but smirk. The LT had probably never been caught dead walking past a place like this, much less in. Shepard had frequented a few in the days after Torfan. There was nothing like plunging yourself into the rot of humanity to realize where you ranked amongst them. 

Williams on the other hand shifted her weight from foot to foot, a predatory expression on her face, hand never straying far from her holster. Someone like Williams was just waiting for an excuse to set a place like this on fire. Shepard hoped this krogan – or Fist for that matter – didn’t give her exactly what she was looking for. 

Behind her Garrus stood silently, almost as though he expected to be forgotten. The turian C-Sec officer seemed eager to please – too eager to please – reeking of someone desperately searching for his place in the universe and constantly turning to the first thing that caught his eye in hopes of finding it. Turians were supposedly known for their strict military doctrine, but Shepard’s first impression of Garrus was that this was a man who preferred the end to the means rather than the other way around. That kind of personality could be dangerous, something Shepard knew from firsthand experience, but when you were dealing with someone like Saren it had its advantages. And Shepard was in desperate need of advantages. 

The meeting with the Council had not gone well. Shepard had a short fuse when it came to politicians, something Anderson had always berated him for, and going into the Tower with the nightmare from the beacon still muddying his brain had made it that much worse. It was bad enough the Council refused to show any sense of alarm over the sudden appearance of the geth or the near annihilation of a human colony. But they followed it up by dismissing any notion of Saren’s guilt with a wave of their hand while Saren looked on via holo, sneering at Shepard and more specifically Anderson, which Shepard found troubling. It was not the first time Shepard sensed he wasn’t getting the full story, but the Captain had refused to talk about it. 

Ambassador Udina, surprisingly, had vehemently gone to bat for them, his sallow face erupting in anger at the Council’s passive stance and razing their support of their Spectre. It made Shepard wonder how blind they forced themselves to be about their operatives. Spectres existed so the Council could do things that they weren’t exactly sanctioned to do, turning a blind eye to what needed to be done to ensure peace and order. The amount of cybernetics Saren had crammed into his face was alarming, and Shepard wasn’t even sure if the Council noticed it.

He glanced around, looking for the krogan Garrus had described to them, but the only ones in sight were the two bouncers they’d passed on the way in. _Good. We’re here first_. That would hopefully make things a little easier. 

A bartender came to their table to see if they wanted drinks. Williams gave him a deathly stare that quickly informed him his services were unneeded. As soon as he hurried off she fixated the same stare on the asari grinding against a pole a few feet away, as though she held her singularly responsible for the degradation of women across the galaxy. 

“You take us to all the nice places, Commander,” she muttered in disgust. “A million light years away from where humanity began and we walk into a bar full of men drooling over half naked women shaking their ass.”

“What,” Alenko said, scraping at a stain on the tabletop. “You don’t think they’re just here for the food?” 

Williams stared at him for a second, then laughed.

Shepard chanced a quick glance back at the doors.The krogan were gone. 

That couldn’t be good. 

“Come on,” he said. Alenko followed Shepard’s gaze and shot to his feet. Williams already had her hand on her sidearm and Garrus made a quick adjustment to the targeting visor he wore. It was a high end piece of equipment far beyond standard issue that looked custom modded. No, Shepard thought, that shot in the med clinic hadn’t been lucky.

They didn’t have to go far. In the walkway outside the club there were now three krogan, the two bouncers and a third, monstrous krogan with a bright red skull crest and a jagged map of scars running across the right side of his broad, reptilian face. 

Shepard had run into a few krogan before, including a few in close quarters on Torfan, but this was easily the largest he’d ever seen. Though his small, wide set eyes stood just a shade higher than Shepard’s, his massive shoulder hump made him well over seven feet tall. 

The two bouncers had drawn ERCS shotguns.Decent guns, but paltry next to the krogan mercenary they were pointed at.Urdnot Wrex was armed only with a pistol, but seemed completely unconcerned. 

“C-Sec confiscated his other weapons,” Garrus said in a low, flanging voice, as though reading Shepard’s thoughts.

“Then he might need our help.” Shepard drew his own pistol, thankful he’d had the foresight to change into his armor after the Council meeting. Wandering around like he was looking for a battlefield had seemed a little strange at first, but strange was better than dead. 

“Back off, Wrex,” one of the krogan said. “Make one move on Fist and you’re as good as dead.” 

Urdot Wrex laughed, a deep, guttural sound. “Tell him I’m offering him a quick, painless death. He doesn’t want to take it, fine. We’ll make it loud and messy.” 

The krogan bouncer raised his shotgun. Shepard heard Alenko suck in a breath as a blue corona enveloped Wrex’s body. This wasn’t just a krogan. This was a goddamned Battlemaster. 

Shepard fired his gun, hitting grip of the krogan’s shotgun with a clank and knocking it out his unprepared hand. As he and the other bouncer looked to see where the shot had come from Wrex heaved a wall of writhing dark energy, hitting the now disarmed krogan with incredible force. The shearing, crippling forces of the mass effect field knocked him to the ground, where Wrex disposed of him with one well-placed shot between the eyes. 

Garrus took care of the remaining krogan, and for a second time Shepard found himself impressed by the turian’s skill. Shepard wasn’t just a good marksman – he was a great one. But after just two shots Shepard thought Garrus could give him a run for his money. 

Wrex turned his sharp gaze on Shepard, dark pupils forming narrow slits inside blood-red irises. “Can I help you human?” he said gruffly. There was no thank you. No acknowledgement of what had just happened. If anything, Shepard thought the krogan was disappointed they’d showed up. 

“I understand you’re looking for Fist,” Shepard said. 

“What of it?” 

“I thought we could help each other.”

The krogan angled his gaze slightly, the deep rents on his face catching the glow from an overhead light. “You’re after the quarian.” 

Shepard’s nodded. “That’s right. I’m after Saren, and this quarian might have something I need.”

Wrex’s posture relaxed slightly, and the towering figure took a few lumbering steps towards them. He could sense Williams and Alenko tighten. 

“Whatever it is, it must be big for someone like Fist to betray the Shadow Broker.” Wrex’s gaze roved over them, hovering briefly on Garrus, then came to rest on Shepard once more. “I know who you are. Your face is all over the vids. You’ve chosen a dangerous enemy, human.” 

Shepard shrugged. “When I choose an enemy, it dies.” 

The krogan’s scaly lips peeled back in a fearsome grin that revealed a set of dangerously sharp teeth. “Then we may have something in common.” He glared at Garrus. “C-Sec relieved me of my guns. Those krogan were little more than cannon fodder, but I’m sure there will be more firepower between me and Fist. If you help me get to him, the quarian is all yours. But be warned. I will kill him. Get in my way, and I won’t hesitate to kill you, too.” 

Shepard crossed his arms. “Fair enough.”

By the time they returned to Chora’s Den the club was eerily quiet. Though the music still blared the remaining patrons did little more than stare into their drinks, and several of the dancers had left their posts. Shepard headed for the back of the bar, where there appeared to be a back room of some kind – hopefully Fist’s office. It was locked. 

“Garrus, can you get this open?” Shepard asked. 

“Yes,” the turian replied, and pulled out his omnitool. One of the bartenders, a young human girl with short, thick red hair wearing about as much clothing as the asari dancers, gave them a nervous look. Shepard shook his head very slowly at her. Meekly she snuck to the other side of the bar. An ‘if I don’t see it, it didn’t happen’ approach. Good.

Shepard detected weapons signatures on the other side of the door. When it slid open they found four humans, all wearing cheap Elkoss Combine armor and carrying even cheaper weapons. Alenko knocked one back with a plume of biotic energy – just hard enough to stun him. Upon seeing the five well-armed creatures before them the other three wilted. Shepard held up a hand, telling everyone to stand down. Thankfully even Wrex listened. 

“This is more than you signed up for,” Shepard informed them. The one Alenko had knocked to the floor was now sitting up with a groan. 

The one that appeared to be the leader nodded, face drained of all color, and bolted out the door into the bar. The others quickly followed, the injured one taking a few drunken steps before finding his balance once more. 

They had entered some kind of storage room. Behind it was another locked door, which Garrus swiftly opened. Shepard couldn’t help but be unimpressed at Fists’s precautions. If this man took living seriously, it didn’t show. 

At least until Garrus hacked through the door lock and they came face to face with a pair of turrets that immediately opened fire. 

Shepard dove to the side, shoving Williams to the floor and away from the sudden, incessant stream of bullets. Biotic barriers immediately crystalized around Wrex and Alenko, sending several slugs ricocheting off with a series of sharp _pings._ Alenko cursed as he reached for a pocket of tech mines that weren’t there – because who the hell expected a face full of _turret_ on the Citadel – and hurled  himself behind the cover of a nearby bulkhead where he whipped out his omnitool and began feverishly working his fingers. 

Garrus held his pistol to his chest, inhaled, then leaned out of cover and fired two quick shots. One hit the firing servo of the closest turret, which sputtered and died. The remaining turret suddenly sparked, the gun sputtering as Alenko managed to create his own tech mine by forcing an overload charge out of his omnitool. Wrex took advantage of the turret’s momentary stutter and charged at it, knocking a table out of his way and wrapping his viselike grip around the turret’s double barrel, mangling it with his bare hands.

A thin layer of acrid smoke drifted through the air. Shepard waited for one of the turrets to spin up again, but all that came was a tortured sounding clunk. With a grunt he pushed himself back up to his feet, then offered his hand to Williams, who was rubbing her ribs. “Next time offer me dinner first, huh?” she said. Shepard clapped her on the back.

There was no sign of Fist or the mysterious quarian. Fist’s desk still stood between the smoking remains of the turret, the smell of overheated gears mingling with that of stale beer and the cigarette butts heaped in an ashtray beside the computer terminal, which appeared to be intact. “Garrus, see if you can get access to any of the files on his computer. See where he might be.”

Garrus didn’t hesitate, and Shepard found himself surprised both at how naturally he had given the order and how naturally the C-Sec officer had followed it. 

Alenko gripped the edge of the overturned table. Williams took the other end and helped him set it upright. 

“Well?” Wrex said impatiently. 

Garrus’s mandible twitched. “Give me a second. I’ve almost got something. Wait. Here. Looks like he was going to meet someone in an alley at…damn. Now.” He glanced up at Shepard. “It mentions the quarian.”

Shepard swore. “This was all just a diversion. Do you know where the alley is?” 

Garrus nodded. “Between here and the markets. It’s not far. Maybe we still have time.”

“Come on!”

As Shepard followed a turian and a krogan on their way to help him rescue a quarian, he decided this might be the weirdest day of his life.


	9. Profugus

Tali Zorah nar Rayya was in trouble. She sensed it before Fist even showed up, but there was no getting it out of it now. Three of his mercenaries were blocking the exits. In a glorious statement of the obvious, her enviro suit informed her that her heart rate was exceeding recommended limits and her biorhythms showed signs of stress. _Stupid girl_ , she thought to herself. _You have no one but yourself to blame for this._

The alley where they were supposed to make the exchange was narrow and cluttered with storage crates bathed in the red sheen of overhead light panels. The optical sensors in her faceplate compensated for the light level, but did nothing for her sense of unease. 

The data disc in her left pocket felt like a lead weight. She half considered snapping it in half, ridding herself of the data that was about to get her killed, but doing so would make her useless and therefore disposable. At least with it she had a bargaining chip and a chance. Though she was becoming increasingly aware that that chance was very, very remote.

Keelah _, Father. I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing_. 

She fingered the spot on her side where her suit had been patched. She still ached where Dr. Michel had removed Jacobus’s bullet, and her head swam with fever. The antibiotics were helping, but not quickly enough. Halfheartedly she wondered if the _Honorata_ had been discovered on Ilium yet, and if her father knew. There had been no way to get a message to him. And even if she had, he never would have been able to get to her in time. Last time she had checked the Flotilla had been somewhere in the Kepler Verge, some four relay jumps away.

Tali was on her own, carrying a data disc in her pocket with enough evidence to take down a Spectre and threaten the peace of the entire galaxy.

_You are Rael Zorah’s daughter,_ she told herself. _You can do this_. 

Keenah’s shotgun hung heavily across the back of her waist when Fist entered the alleyway, flanked by two turians and a human. He smiled demurely when he saw her. Tali felt her skin creep. By himself Fist was not terribly intimidating. He had a square, clueless face and strangely styled hair that was cropped in a perfectly flat plane several inches above his head. Tali wasn’t sure if he looked ridiculous because she just wasn’t used to humans (quarians’ only way of judging one another’s appearance was by their suits), or if it was because he was the kind of person who wanted to look intimidating and just didn’t know how. 

The guns that followed him around, however, were very intimidating. 

“Did you bring it?” Fist asked. 

Her blood pressure feeds shot into the red. “Where’s the Shadow Broker?” she demanded. 

“He’ll be here.” He traced the contours of her hood and the line of her shoulder with a seductive sweep of his hand, standing close enough that her suit sensors were able to analyze his breath and detect traces of sulfenic acid. “Where’s the evidence?” 

She swatted his hand away. “No way,” she said vehemently. “The deal’s off.” 

Fist backed away slowly, his expression darkening. One glance from him and she heard every thug in the room charge their weapon. 

She could not get to the exits. But she might be able to take a few of these _bosh’tets_ with her. Taking a deep breath, she flipped a small tech mine out of her right pocket and threw it to the ground at their feet, simultaneously diving towards a pile of crates. The ensuing explosion overloaded their kinetic shielding with a sharp hiss and set off a bright orange flare, knocking a few of the men, including Fist, off their feet. 

Gunfire ensued. But to her shock, it wasn’t directed at her. Through the thin, gray smoke left behind from the mine she saw a new human, wearing an Alliance hardsuit, flanked by two more Alliance, a turian and…a _krogan?_

A crossfire of bullets sliced through the claustrophobic alleyway. It was over quickly, leaving a mess of corpses on the floor and indiscriminate gore splattered across the walls. Fist was the only one left alive, kneeling on the floor, shaking arms behind his head. Tali thought she heard him weeping. She smirked. Above him stood the krogan, who pointed Fist’s own shotgun at his face. 

“The Shadow Broker sends his regards,” he rumbled, then pulled the trigger. Tali inhaled sharply as Fist’s head morphed into a pulpy mass of dripping red bone fragments, charred flesh and ruptured greymatter. The human, who appeared to be in charge, fixed her with a blue-eyed gaze so sharp she thought he might be able to see right through her helmet. She scrambled to her feet when he took a step forward. 

“Relax,” he said, stowing his weapon and holding up both hands. “We’re here to help you. Are you all right?” 

She nodded, glad he couldn’t see how badly she was shaking inside her suit. “Fist set me up,” she sputtered. “I knew I couldn’t trust him.” 

He nodded. “He was going to give you to Saren.” 

Her hand flew protectively to her left suit pocket. Everyone else tensed, assuming she was going for another mine. She removed her hand. “Who are you?” she asked. 

“Commander Shepard,” he said. “Alliance military. I think we might be able to help each other.”

Suspicion crept into her voice. “How so?”

“I’m looking for evidence that proves Saren’s a traitor. If you can help me with that, I can protect you.” 

Briefly Tali thought about reaching for her ( _Keenah’s_ ) shotgun and trying to run. But she had been running for days without success, and if Saren knew what she had she was going to end up just like Keenah. Besides, in every way that Fist had seemed untrustworthy Shepard seemed genuine. And he had just saved her life. 

But she wanted more than protection. 

“I can,” she said, trying to visualize her father addressing the Admiralty Board. _Speak with confidence and you’ll be surprised how many people listen,_ he’d told her. “On one condition.”

Shepard cocked his head, intrigued. “Name it.”

“Whatever you do with my evidence, I go with you.” 

Behind him the human female guffawed, and Tali felt her confidence evaporate. “A _quarian?_ On an Alliance ship? Are you out of your mind?”

Shepard ignored her. “Why?”

Tali drew in a deep breath. _He’s still listening, just like Father said._ “What I have connects Saren to the geth. And something worse. You want Saren, I want information about the geth.” She wavered, forced herself to continue. “Can we work together?”

“Yes,” he said, never taking his gaze off Tali. The speed of his accession astonished her, and she wasn’t the only one. 

“Commander-” 

“Enough, Williams, I’ll make it happen,” Shepard said harshly. Williams fell silent. “What’s your name?” he asked. 

Tali hesitated, but only for a moment. “Tali’Zorah nar Rayya,” she replied. “But you can call me Tali.” 

“Tali,” he said, extending his hand. She eyed it warily. Even with the protection of her suit the practice of limiting physical contact with others was deeply ingrained. Shepard seemed to take notice, and retracted his hand. “Sorry,” he said. “Human custom.”

“Let’s get somewhere safe,” the other Alliance human suggested. “Ambassador Udina can protect you until we get your information to the Council.” 

Safety. And this time it might not be a lie. For the first time since the _Honorata_ had detoured through the Crescent Nebula she thought maybe things would be ok.

~

Captain Anderson and Ambassador Udina were waiting for Shepard when he arrived at Udina’s office, a wide, spacious area furnished with little more than a long, narrow desk and a few chairs. Along the walls a couple of extranet displays scrolled muted newsfeeds and near the door hung some uninspiring artwork of an unknown origin. The rear of the office opened up to a balcony overlooking the Presidium, where echoes of distant chatter and the intermittent whoosh of skycars zipping past interrupted the uncomfortable silence. 

Nothing about the space gave the slightest hint to what kind of man Udina was. There was no art, no photos of a wife or family, no diplomas or awards hanging in frames. Whether that was by choice or oversight was unknown, but Shepard guessed it was the former. Udina didn’t strike him as the kind who liked to give anyone any kind of insight or advantage. 

Though there were plenty of chairs, none of them sat. Anderson paced the room in agitation while Udina looked on from behind his conspicuously clean desk, wearing his usual expression of disapproval. Udina was a narrowly built man with a receding hairline, close set eyes and a nasal voice that only got more irritating when he shouted, which he did often. But this time he was silent. It was Anderson who was about to blow a gasket. 

“Do you mean to tell me that the body count down in the Wards I’m hearing about involved my XO?”

Shepard’s eyes followed Anderson’s movement. “Believe me, none of those ‘bodies’ is anyone that’ll be missed.” It was the wrong answer and Shepard knew it, but it was the truth, and there was too much bullshit between them and the truth to add another layer.

Anderson swiveled on his heel, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. “I should throw you in the brig.”

“Saren’s a traitor,” Shepard argued. “I needed proof and I got it. The Council should be thanking me. Sir.” He folded his arms defiantly across his chest.

“Normally I would agree with Captain Anderson,” Udina said dryly, unexpectedly supporting Shepard, “but we need to know what you found.” 

Shepard went to the closed door and released the lock. Tali stood on the other side, anxiously kneading her hands together. 

Like all quarians, she was completely cocooned inside a close fitting, ornate enviro suit, face covered by a nearly opaque purple tinted faceplate through which the golden slits of her pupils were all that was visible. Over her head she wore a matching hood embroidered with intricate, light colored swirls – whether they were of quarian significance or simply ornamental design Shepard didn’t know. Her voice was filtered through a circular mouthpiece that added a flanging effect similar to that of a turian, but without the natural social inflections. There was something gypsy-like about her, from the colorful suit to the melodic lilt of her voice. 

Shepard had never met a quarian before Tali. The nomadic species rarely strayed from the Migrant Fleet, and their sprawling, patchwork flotilla did not often intersect with human controlled space.But he did not need to see Tali’s face or hear her voice to know she was young. It was in the way she carried herself, the body language of someone who had no idea what the galaxy was about to spring on her or what she was going to do about it. Yet here she was, determined to figure it out. Shepard offered her an encouraging smile and gestured for her to come in. 

Even with the suit it was easy to see a resemblance to the geth, from the backward bow of her legs to the three thick fingers under her gloved hands. The curvature of her hood even spoke to the geth’s facial cowling, though when they’d created the geth quarians hadn’t needed hoods.

Udina scowled at her as though she were nothing more than a vagrant. “This had better be good.” 

Shepard swore he could feel her glare, saw her posture stiffen slightly. Her mouthpiece transmitted no sound, but Shepard saw her chest expand and deflate as she took a deep breath. She was out of her league and knew it, but wasn’t backing down. He liked her. 

“First, our deal. Shepard?” 

Both Udina and Anderson swiveled their heads, and Shepard braced himself. If Anderson hadn’t liked what happened in the Wards, he _really_ wasn’t going to like this. He cleared his throat. “In exchange for the data, Tali wants join us.”

Anderson stared at him.

“Out of the question,” Udina snapped.

“She knows what she’s doing,” Shepard insisted, leaning against the back of Udina’s desk. “I’ve seen her in action. And we need what she has. We want Saren, she wants the geth. It’s a fair trade.” 

“How do we know what she has is genuine?” Anderson asked. Interesting. Of the two, Shepard had expected him to be more difficult to persuade. 

“I’m right here,” Tali said testily. “The data I have cannot be faked. I got it from a geth memory core. It’s difficult enough to extract one without triggering it to self-destruct. Trying to tamper with it would destroy it completely.”

“A geth memory core?” Udina asked, suspicious. He put his knuckles to his chin. “Where did you get it?” 

“I’m on my Pilgrimage,” she explained. “We were passing through the Crescent Nebula and detected a signal. When we investigated, we found the geth. We weren’t in any position to engage them, but we managed to lure one away from the group and disable it.”

“We? Who’s we?”

She hesitated. Shepard couldn’t see her agony but was shocked at how clearly he could feel it, rolling off of her in waves. 

When she continued it was with forced determination. “It doesn’t matter. They’re dead now. It’s just me left.” 

He thought of Dr. Michel’s report, that she had been shot, and wondered just what she’d been through to get this far.

“Go on,” Anderson said gently, before Udina could interject. 

Tali worked her fingers, as though she didn’t know what to do with her hands. “The geth managed to partially flash its core before I extracted it, but I was able to recover some data. Data that confirms Saren’s plans to attack Eden Prime, and what he was looking for there.”

Udina and Anderson glanced quickly at each other.

“What _was_ he looking for?” Anderson asked. “Did he find it?” 

“I’m not sure…but I don’t think so.” She activated her omnitool and played back an audio recording. Saren’s unmistakable voice crackled to life, and Shepard felt a small chill race up his spine. 

_“Eden Prime will bring us one step closer to finding the conduit.”_

She paused playback. 

“Conduit?” Udina asked.

“There’s more,” Shepard said, feeling tired again. He’d heard the recording before he arrived. Couldn’t unhear it.

Tali nodded and let the clip play once more. This time they heard a female voice, sonorous and smooth.

_“And one step forward to the return of the reapers.”_

Tali stopped playback once more, allowing her omnitool to fade away. Shepard put a hand to the bridge of his nose. His head felt tight. 

“The core data identifies her as an asari matriarch named Benezia,” she said before they could ask. 

“I’ve heard of her,” Udina said sourly. 

Anderson put a thoughtful hand to his chin. “What are these reapers she mentions?” 

“They destroyed the protheans,” Shepard said without looking up. 

( _the_ _monsters are awake)_

“That…is what the geth believe,” Tali concurred.

Shepard waved his hand. “Doesn’t matter what they believe. It’s what happened.” 

_( they are coming)_

“Yes, your visions,” Udina sneered. “Of course.”

“What do you know about them?” Anderson asked. 

Tali tilted her head to the side, seemingly pleased that he’d asked. “According to the data I recovered the geth believe them to be a hyper advanced machine race that existed 50,000 years ago. They hunted the protheans to total extinction, then vanished.”

Shepard remembered the hollow eyes of his mother, the smile with no teeth. How she opened her arms in welcome to the pestilence that Tali was now trying to describe. He gripped the edge of the desk to keep his hands from shaking. 

Udina’s brow furrowed. “And you can prove this?” 

“Yes,” Tali insisted. “If you agree to your part of the deal.”

Shepard willfully forced the visions away, focusing on Anderson. When he spoke he was surprised at how steady his voice sounded. “If we’re going after Saren, that’s going to mean geth. Who knows geth better than a quarian?” 

Anderson scowled. Shepard was sure this was a conversation he’d rather have in private, but they didn’t have the luxury. The Council was meeting in less than an hour. 

“I’ll make the arrangements,” he said with an eventual sigh. “Admiral Hackett might help me smooth things over. If Mikhailovich gets wind of this I’ll lose my damned commission.” 

“All I care about is whether or not she can make this hold up in front of the Council,” Udina said. 

“I’ve documented everything,” Tali assured them. “They can review it however they want. I stand by my work.” 

“Let’s hope it’s enough.”

~

The four of them made the long walk through the anterooms of the Citadel Tower, past arboretums of blossoming trees (they were not green, which Shepard found odd, having instead a rose colored hue). The gentle splash of fountains echoed along the periphery, mingled with the whispers of other diplomats who watched their every move. A short distance behind them came Alenko and Williams, both shifting their gazes about them like they had no idea if they were actually supposed to be there. 

They climbed two short flights of steps to reach the petitioner’s stage, where the walkway narrowed to only a couple of meters wide as it jutted out over a glass floor, beneath which grew an immaculately tended garden. At the far end of the glass was a platform with three podiums where the Councilors now stood: one asari, one turian and one salarian. Circling the sides of the chamber were several viewing galleries where people could watch the proceedings, and today they were crowded. 

The asari Councilor, Tevos, was dressed in a simple, close fitting rouge gown with a ribbon of white down the center of her chest and white sleeves. Soft pink tattoos like tiger stripes stood out against her blue skin, forming a mask around her eyes and trailing up into the ridges of her sweeping skull crest. The turian had white clan markings, though not as thick as the Executor’s, and wore a boldly colored suit with white piping. 

Both looked hale, even young, though Shepard was quick to remind himself that neither turians nor asari showed age like other species did. In fact according to Avina, the asari-shaped VI projection found all over the Citadel, Tevos was over 800 years old. The salarian on the other hand did look aged, with deep rivulets running through the architecture of his amphibious face, especially around his large, black eyes, even though he was just shy of forty. The thick hooded cloak he wore nearly obscured the natural scholiotic curve of his spine, but only seemed to add to his age and had the side effect of making him look…frumpy. 

There was palpable unease as Shepard stepped onto the dais. Among those gathered along the railings Shepard spotted Garrus, identifying him by the now-familiar rectangular blue glow of the targeting visor he wore over his left eye. He was not, Shepard noted, wearing his C-Sec uniform. Not far from him he was surprised to see Wrex, though how he had gained access to the Tower was beyond him. Krogan were only marginally welcome on the Citadel to begin with. They were tolerated in the Wards, shunned in the Presidium. Wrex’s presence here indicated he either had more influence than Shepard realized, or someone had intervened to obtain clearance. _Anderson_ , Shepard thought. _But why?_

Shepard found it hard to concentrate on the Council as Udina and Anderson argued their case. Their suspicion, their refusal to come to terms with Saren’s betrayal, only stirred up his anger to the point he wanted to reach across the chasm and strangle them. _You haven’t seen what I saw! You don’t know what I know!_

Reapers.

The moment Tali had named them it was like flipping a switch that sent him on an express shuttle to hell. 

( _they_ _descend like locusts, speaking with red fire and the blowing of horns)_

The agony, terror, hopelessness and grief of an entire race hurtling towards extinction burned up his brain. 

The horrors beings could inflict on one another were not new to him. He had seen it on Mindoir, Elysium. On Torfan he had even been one of the inflictors, allowed all the hatred, all the fury that had been building inside of him ever since the batarians had set his home – his life – on fire so many years ago, to rise up and dominate his every thought, every sense

( _you_ _ batarian _bastards _, not one. Not one more)_

until all humanity was neatly excised from the equation. It was Torfan where he had understood what had gone through the mind of the four eyed arthropod who had gutted his mother with a ballistic blade gauntlet, leaving her to bleed while varren tore through the entrails of his father amidst the spreading flames. That sadistic euphoria that Shepard had felt within himself – no matter how brief – had driven him to the bottom of a bottle until Anderson had found him, kicked him around and dragged him forcibly back to sobriety. 

The discovery that such brutality lurked somewhere in everyone was hard to live with, but in the end, if you tried hard enough, looked deep enough, that humanity came back to you. 

Not so with the reapers. There was no mercy. Neither was there anger. Just the patient, methodical, relentless annihilation of an entire race by something so inherently inhuman, unknowable, it made Shepard’s blood run cold. 

( _they_ _are coming, they are coming theyarecomingTHEYARECOMING)_

The protheans had not understood their enemy. He knew that much. They had thought themselves strong, but this foe had been stronger, utterly alien and without compassion.

Shepard forced his gaze back to the Council as they listened to the recordings Tali had recovered, reviewed the geth data that described Saren’s plan of attack on Eden Prime and his intention to turn more than four million people into a smoking crater just to cover his tracks. He reached out for the railing at the end of dais and clenched it until his knuckles turned white.

Udina smiled grimly, throwing an arm out in a grand, condescending gesture. “You wanted proof, there it is.”

The turian councilor, Sparatus, sighed. “We will further review the evidence gathered by Ms. Zorah. However it appears to be genuine. That being the case, Saren Arterius will be stripped of Spectre status and all efforts made to bring him to answer for his crimes.” 

A ripple ran through the onlookers.

Councilor Tevos’s normally detached expression was deep with worry. “If that is indeed Matriarch Benezia, then he has found himself a formidable ally. She’s a powerful biotic with many followers.” 

Valern, the salarian, peered out from under his hood at a datascreen hovering above his podium. “What is this ‘conduit’ he speaks of?” 

“We’re not sure,” Anderson admitted. “But we think it’s the key to bringing back the reapers.” 

Sparatus scoffed. “Ridiculous. You think Saren wants to bring back a mythical machine race that wiped out all life in the galaxy? Impossible. It has to be!” 

“His motives don’t matter,” Shepard spoke up. “All that matters is he doesn’t find whatever he’s looking for.” 

“Notice is being sent out as we speak that Saren is a rogue agent,” Sparatus said with infuriating patience. “Without the rights or resources of a Spectre he’ll be on the run for his life. Whatever his intentions were, he won’t be able to continue.”

“He has a geth army at his back and a powerful asari ally,” Anderson argued. “He doesn’t need your authority. He’ll make his own. We have to do more than just passively sit by and wait for him to appear. I know the man. He won’t let this – or anything else – get in his way that easily.” 

Shepard shifted his gaze to his Captain, eyebrow raised. So Anderson did know Saren. The question was how. It wasn’t in his record – Shepard had looked. 

Udina leaned forward against the railing, clenching an outstretched fist. “He’s hiding somewhere in the Traverse. Send your fleet in!” 

“A fleet to track down one man?” Valern said, bemused. 

“Maybe not,” Udina said grudgingly. “But it might protect more colonies from the threat of the geth.” 

Sparatus shook his head. “We will not be dragged into a galactic confrontation over a few human colonies.” 

Udina shuffled his feet, too agitated to stand still, his voice frothing with anger. “Human for now!” he shouted, gesticulating with both arms. “But what happens when he attacks a turian colony? Asari? What then!” 

“Send me,” Shepard said calmly.

There was another rush of whispers from the gallery, followed by a hush. All three Councilors exchanged glances. Anderson did not meet Shepard’s gaze, simply knotted his hands behind his back and looked straight ahead. Udina coiled his fists in anticipation. 

“Everyone wins,” Shepard went on, brushing past Anderson until he was front and center on the platform. He scanned the crowd that had gathered, feeling every eye resting squarely on him. “You don’t have to send a fleet into the Traverse. The Ambassador gets his Spectre.” 

“No,” Sparatus said vehemently. “It’s too soon. Humanity is not ready—”

Tevos reached over and touched him lightly on the arm. He turned a weary, frustrated face to her. She offered him a slight nod. After an extended pause he sighed, and nodded in return. All three of them offered their handprint to a screen that popped up on their terminals. 

Everyone in the Tower pressed against the gallery railings. Shepard was aware of a short, dark haired human reporter standing eagerly nearby, in the right place at the right time, getting the story of her life. Behind him he could hear Alenko and Williams whispering frantically to each other.

The rest was a blur. All three Councilors droned at him about the power and privilege of being a Spectre and the burden that came with it. Shepard heard the words but barely registered them. Instead he found himself thinking about an old memory, his last before the raid on Mindoir, standing in the kitchen helping his mother peel and slice potatoes. Their first successful potato crop, after three years of trying to acclimate them to Mindoir’s alien soil. For the first time in months she’d been happy, the strained slump of her shoulders were gone, the lines on her brow had smoothed and she was humming – something Shepard had missed. There was a yellow kerchief covering her auburn hair, though a few loose strands caught the slanting glow of the setting sun. They were waiting for his father to come in from surveying the fields, to share in the literal fruits of their hard labor. They had no idea that when he walked through the door their lives would come crashing down, propelling Shepard alone down an utterly alien path. 

So long ago. Eons from here, this place, this moment.

That farmboy on Mindoir now stood in front of some of the most influential beings in the galaxy, representing humanity in a way that less than a lifetime ago couldn’t even be fathomed.

_Do not let them down._

 

 

 


	10. Saliet Fidei

Kaidan rested his arms on the railing, gazing out at the Ward arms from the viewing panes outside Dr. Michel’s clinic. The sounds of living – conversation, laughter, arguments – broke over him in waves, the individual pitches and tones blending into a sea of muted, ambient noise.

In here, behind the glass, it was loud and cacophonous. Outside the viewing pane the passing ships and constant flutter of light and movement signaled something just as vivid, just as alive. But out there, the emptiness of space swallowed up the sonance.

It had been a really weird day.

Idly he propped one foot against the railing, wondering where they would go from here. Anderson and Udina had closeted themselves in the Udina’s office, determining the logistics of handling a human Spectre. Shepard had been whisked off shortly after the ceremony in the Tower, and without orders to return to the ship the rest of them had been left to look after themselves until the dust settled. He’d asked Joker if he wanted to get a drink somewhere, but the cranky pilot had turned him down. _I’m sure the Citadel’s great, but if I try wandering around the only place I’m going to get to know is a med clinic, and it sounds like you guys shot that up already. Thanks but no thanks._

It was the first real insight Kaidan had had into the seriousness of Joker’s condition. Of course he could have used a mobility assistance mech to get around, but Joker didn’t seem to like them. Kaidan wasn’t actually sure if he liked anything.  

Williams had disappeared shortly after the ceremony also, leaving Kaidan to wander around on his own. Before long he’d found himself here, just one more in a long, long line of people who’d looked out this window and had a few morose thoughts about their infinitesimal place in the eyes of the galaxy. There was nothing like facing the threat of galactic extinction to make you feel small.

Had it not been for Shepard, Kaidan wasn’t even sure he would believe it. But his expression when he had first heard Tali’s recording, the speed at which the color drained from his face, had been so terrifying Kaidan believed every word of it. It had been like watching the literal weight of the galaxy come crashing down on his commander’s shoulders. Whatever that beacon had done to him on Eden Prime, it had affected him on a fundamental level Kaidan had only witnessed once.

The moments in which Shepard’s human side won out over the Hero of Elysium, the Butcher of Torfan, the symbol rather than the man, came rarely. Most people never saw past the legend, but the man Kaidan had met a few years ago in a rundown bar on Arcturus had been anything but. Kaidan hadn’t seen _that_ Shepard again until Tali had presented her information to the Council.

It was the only evidence he needed that the reapers were real.  

 _First thing’s first_ , Kaidan reminded himself. First they had to contend with Saren. If they stopped him, maybe the reapers would stay vanished. He could hope, anyway.

Someone came up beside him and leaned against the railing. A glance told him it was Ashley Williams, a small – but not unwelcome – surprise. She was back in the Alliance regs she’d picked up on the Presidium, right down to the designer boots that were all she’d been able to find. Flashy neon green with white stripes, no less, and matching laces just as garish. He resisted a smile at how woefully she’d underestimated her ability to bargain with a volus. When you combined that with how gaudy they were, he thought she might have been better off sticking with the pair that went with her armor.

“Enjoying the view, LT?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Hard not to be impressed. Where’ve you been?”

“Tried to get ahold of my mom and sisters to let them know I was ok,” Ashley replied, grabbing the railing and stretching backwards until Kaidan heard something in her shoulder pop. She made a face. “Couldn’t get bandwidth for an actual face to face conversation, but at least I got a message through.”

“Where are they? Earth?”

She nodded. “I was born on Sirona, but we all wound up back on Earth when I did Basic at Macapá.”

“Close family, huh? Bet they were worried.”

“Yeah. We come from a long line of military, so they know it’s part of the job. Doesn’t make it easy though.” She nodded towards the med clinic, suddenly eager to change the subject. “What brings you back to the scene of the crime?”

He released the railing and straightened up a little. “Came to check on Dr. Michel. I imagine having to oversee the removal of four bodies from your clinic would rattle you a little.”

“Right,” she demurred. “And I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact she’s a smoking hot redhead. With a Russian accent.”  

“Of course not,” Kaidan said, feeling his face flush.

Ashley shook her head, smiling. “You’re such a boy scout.”

“At least I didn’t sell my soul to a volus for those godawful boots.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “Touché. Maybe now that Shepard’s a Spectre I can pass the bill to him. Assuming we ever see him again.”

Kaidan tilted his head, considering. Out the window a salarian frigate drifted along the Ward arms, heading for the docking rings. “You know, I hadn’t really thought about that.”

She shrugged, looking down at her hands. “I have. But then again, you have an official posting on the _Normandy._ I’m just space luggage you picked up along the way.”

“Wow, someone’s down on themselves.”

“Comes with the territory.”

Kaidan frowned. “What does that mean?”

She waved him off. “Nothing. Sorry. If you hadn’t noticed, I have a tendency to shove my foot in my mouth a lot.”

He had noticed.

“Do you believe all this about reapers?” she asked. “That Saren’s gone batshit enough to buddy up with machines that want to wipe us out Old Testament style?”

“Yes,” he said, looking back out into the blue wisps of the nebula.

“Because of the evidence or because of Shepard?”

Kaidan shifted his feet uncomfortably. She was more perceptive than he gave her credit for.  

“He’s not like other soldiers, is he?”

“Not that I’ve met,” Kaidan admitted.

“How well do you know him?” she prodded. “There’s a lot of rumors out there. People talk about him like he’s Jekyll and Hyde. No one knows if he’s going to climb a tree to rescue the kitten or just set the tree on fire and hope Kitty learns how to jump.”

Now it was Kaidan’s turn to laugh. “Pretty sure he’s not the kitten murdering type, but I guess you never know _._ ”

“Yeah? So what _really_ happened on Torfan?”

The question hit a lot closer to the heart of his friendship with Shepard than he’d ever admit. Again he thought about the Shepard he’d met on Arcturus. Could still smell the liquor on his breath, see the unfocused haze in his feverish eyes.

Yeah…Kaidan knew a thing or two about what happened on Torfan. But he’d take it to his grave. Shepard almost _had_.

He sighed and reached for the railing, cursing silently when an electric shock nipped the pads of his fingers. It always got him more after a biotic display.  “You know, asking for the grisly details about a massacre that killed half your men isn’t exactly polite conversation over a game of cards.”

“So you’re telling me you _don’t_ have foot-in-mouth syndrome,” she said seriously.

“Come on,” he said with a grin. “I need to get something to eat. Want to check out Flux, that nightclub place?” Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. In biotic terms, that was way too long.

“Sure,” she said amiably.  

“Mind if I join you?” a voice interrupted. They turned in surprise to find Shepard behind them, arms folded across his chest with an easy smile on his face. Williams immediately turned about six shades of red. Kaidan had no idea how long he’d been standing there, but clearly Ashley believed it was long enough. Foot-in-mouth indeed.

“Of course not, Shepard,” Kaidan said, rescuing Williams from having to speak.

They strolled down the corridor towards the stairwell to entrance of Flux, accosted on the way by the short-haired reporter who’d been in the Tower for the Spectre induction ceremony. She was young and bursting with enthusiasm, giddily shaking his hand when he offered it and introducing herself as Emily Wong. To Kaidan’s surprise she wasn’t even there to ask him about being a Spectre – instead she was interested in Fist, the man Wrex had shot.

If Shepard was annoyed he didn’t show it, taking the time to answer a few questions and offer up the information Garrus had come up with from Fist’s office, at which point Kaidan thought her eyes might fall out of her head.

When he finally extricated himself from her fervent thank you’s and reached the nightclub’s entrance, Ashley chuckled. “Think you made a friend for life, Commander.”

Shepard shrugged. “Not like I was going to do anything with the data.”

Inside Flux, the lighting was dim but amiable. To the left of the entrance was a dance floor where a collection of humans, turians, several asari and even a volus swayed and waved their arms, or in the case of the volus, tottered on stumpy legs and used his short arms to keep his rotund body from toppling over.

On a mezzanine above the dance floor was a gambling floor with a large collection of quasar tables that beeped and flashed enthusiastically, all closely watched by a determined volus. To the left was a bar and collection of tables – none occupied by asari dancers, to Williams’ satisfaction.

A human bouncer took one look at Shepard, widened his eyes and let them pass. For a second Kaidan thought he was going to bow. _News travels fast,_ he thought _._

“Gonna cut a rug on the dance floor, Commander?” Williams asked.

Kaidan suppressed a snort. Shepard grimaced. “Dancing isn’t really my thing.”

She shrugged. They headed to a table and sat. A dark-haired waitress swiftly took a drink order – a lager for Ashley and straight whiskey for Shepard. Kaidan ordered two glasses of water and a steak dinner, earning him an odd look from Williams.

“I’m a biotic,” he said defensively. “Gotta eat. And no one ever refills glasses fast enough.”

She gave him an expression that said _Sure, whatever_.   

Like Chora’s Den the music here was loud, but it lacked that aura of desperation. Here people actually enjoyed themselves rather than drowned their problems. For a moment the three of them sat in companionable silence. Shepard leaned back in his chair, casually observing their surroundings. Plenty of onlookers tried deliberately not to stare. Well, some of them. Others had no problem with unabashed gawking.  

“Any word from above?” Kaidan asked.  

Shepard shook his head. “Anderson and Udina said they’d call for me when they had everything taken care of. Not sure how I feel about not having a say in things, but Anderson was pretty clear that Spectre or no, I was still Alliance and should kindly shut up and get the hell out.”

“Which I’m sure you did promptly, without complaint, and have stayed completely out of trouble,” Kaidan replied.

Shepard accepted the offered whiskey from the waitress and took a long sip. “I may have made a few arrangements of my own.”

Williams swished the beer in her glass. “Such as?”

“Convinced Garrus and Wrex to come along for the ride.”

She nearly spilled the glass. “You did _what?_ Why?”

“I need them,” Shepard replied. “Wrex has ties to the Shadow Broker, which might come in handy. And besides, rumor has it Saren is working with a few krogan in addition to the geth. Figured it couldn’t hurt to have one on our side.”

“Christ on crutches,” Williams muttered.

The waitress brought Kaidan’s steak. Probably some lab-grown piece of meat that had little to do with an actual cow, but he didn’t care. He dug in while the other two watched.

“And what about your turian puppy dog?” Williams asked, twisting her napkin in her fingers.

“Garrus,” Shepard corrected her forcefully. “He’s eager and hates Saren, not to mention he’s a terrific shot. Sounds like the combination we’re looking for. Besides, I’m not convinced he didn’t already have his bags waiting by the door. Don’t think he liked his job.”

“What’s your deal with aliens?” Kaidan asked Ashley around a mouthful of baked potato.

Williams shrugged. “I don’t hate them or anything,” she said. “I just don’t trust them. I mean, Shanxi wasn’t _that_ long ago. It seems like everyone is a little too eager to jump on the Council bandwagon and do whatever we have to to fit in, even if it means compromising ourselves in the process.”

“It’s a big galaxy out there,” Shepard pointed out. “Seems like we’d do well to make friends rather than enemies.”

“Sure, fine, I get it. But can we at least make sure they’re willing to reciprocate a little first? The Council doesn’t seem too interested in helping our colonies.”

“That’s politics,” Shepard replied.

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“Generalizations are dangerous,” Kaidan told her. “Aliens are jerks and saints, just like us.”

“How profound,” she drawled.

Shepard frowned. “Will this be a problem?”

“No,” she said, straightening up in her chair.

“Good. Because whatever their plan is,” he nodded symbolically up at the ceiling, “I intend to pick my own crew.”

Her eyes widened hopefully. Kaidan leaned forward slightly in his seat. “I want to be part of this if you’ll have me,” she said. “I know I can be a pain in the ass. But I swear, Commander. You say jump my only question’ll be how high.”

“What’s our first move?” Kaidan asked, laying his silverware down. “How do we find Saren?”

Shepard signaled the waitress for another round. “The Council provided a few leads. Best one seems to be in Artemis Tau. Apparently this Matriarch Benezia has a daughter who’s a prothean scientist. Her last reported location was somewhere in Knossos studying ruins.”

“Think she’s working for her mom?” Williams asked.

“Won’t know until we get there.”

Shepard’s comm beeped. He pulled up his omnitool, quickly scanning a new message. “Anderson wants us back on the _Normandy,_ ” he said. “Looks like we’re about to find out what happens next.”

All three of them stood. Kaidan looked longingly at the last few mouthfuls on his plate, then sighed and picked up the tab, earning him a grateful nod from Williams. She really had run through most of her available credits to get those stupid boots. At least meals in the Wards were a sight cheaper than they were on the Presidium. Relatively, anyway. Kaidan noted Shepard hadn’t been charged for his drinks.

As they wound through the corridors of the Wards back to C-Sec and the docking elevators, Kaidan couldn’t help but feel something had fundamentally changed the course of events. Whatever trajectory his life had been on yesterday had been irrevocably altered. What that meant he didn’t know, but he couldn’t help but feel that with Shepard at the helm their chances were infinitely better.

~

Shepard stared at Ambassador Udina amidst the echoes of the docking bay outside the _Normandy,_ wondering if he’d heard correctly. Alenko and Williams had already boarded, leaving Shepard alone with Udina and Anderson.

“She’s the perfect ship for a Spectre,” Anderson told him. “Quick, quiet, crewed with people you can trust.”

“Yes, but she’s _your_ ship,” Shepard replied. “An Alliance ship.”

“With a heavy investment by the Council,” Udina reminded him.

The corner of Anderson’s mouth quirked in a small, passing grimace.

A dull roar drowned out all sound as another Alliance ship shut down its maneuvering thrusters on its way into the adjoining docking bay. The creak of hydraulic joints accompanied the extending docking clamps that locked it in place.

“I’ve been asked to serve as the Alliance attaché to the Citadel,” Anderson explained.  “And it’s time for me to step down. Thirty years in action is enough.”  

It all fell into place.

“This was the plan from the start,” Shepard realized. “The _Normandy_. You wanted a human Spectre. You planned to give her to whoever managed to pull it off. Captain Anderson was just keeping the seat warm. You politically motivated _bastards_.”

“Becoming a Spectre does not entitle you to disrespect me,” Udina informed him coldly. Shepard thought that was exactly what it meant, but kept his mouth shut.

“This is the highest honor the Council has ever bestowed on humanity. If we want to continue to move forward and earn our place, we have to make the most of it. That means fitting a Spectre with the best ship, best crew and best resources.”

“And kicking one of your most decorated officers to the curb,” Shepard said in distaste.

Udina pursed his lips. “You should be thrilled, Shepard. You are the only one who can bring justice to those who murdered our people and destroyed our colony. You can prove humanity’s worth. Through you, the Alliance can accomplish things it could never do on its own. I think that’s worth a few personnel changes.”

Shepard hated Udina all the more because he was right.

“The _Normandy_ is being loaded with weapons and supplies that you might find useful,” Udina went on. “As soon as that’s done, you are cleared to proceed immediately. Good luck.”

Udina left quickly, as anxious to leave as Shepard was to see him go.  

“This isn’t right,” he said as soon as Udina disappeared into the docking bay elevator. “I don’t care what he says. You’ve done too much for the Alliance to be forced out like this.”

A wry smile touched the corner of Anderson’s lips. “I had my shot, Shepard. I was in your shoes twenty years ago.”

This took Shepard by surprise, again realizing how much better Anderson knew him than the other way around. “You were a Spectre candidate?”

“The first,” Anderson said with a nod. “But I blew it.”

“Saren evaluated you,” Shepard said as it dawned on him. That was how they’d known each other. All of Anderson’s agitation, anxiety and frustration suddenly made sense.  

“Yes. And as you can imagine, it didn’t go well. He set me up to fail. A man good enough to be a Spectre would have seen it, but I didn’t.” He held his hand up when Shepard tried to interrupt. “Doesn’t matter. It’s old history. Now it’s your turn. I wasn’t the right one for the job. You are.”

The certainty of his affirmation took Shepard off guard. They had been walking on eggshells around each other for so long now he wasn’t sure just how much faith Anderson still had in him.

Anderson cleared his throat, as though guessing what he was thinking. “Shepard, you’re the best soldier I’ve had under my command, but that’s not enough to be a Spectre. A Spectre has qualities that can’t be taught. Qualities _you_ possess.”

“And what are those?” Shepard asked, suddenly more exhausted than he’d ever felt in his life.

Anderson placed a hand on Shepard’s shoulder. “Do you remember what I told you after Elysium?”

“This is different,” Shepard argued.

“Is it? This isn’t going to be easy, Shepard. I don’t have to tell you that. Let me ask you something. Alenko and Williams. They would follow any order I gave them, wouldn’t you agree?”

Shepard frowned. “Of course.”

“But what would happen if you gave one that contradicted it?”

He opened his mouth to answer, then stopped. Started again, more hesitantly than he wanted. “You’re their superior officer.”

Anderson chuckled. “I know what the answer is supposed to be, Shepard. I’m asking you what it _is_.”

It was not a question he had ever thought to even ask himself. But he remembered what Williams had said in Flux. _You say jump, my only question’ll be how high._ And then there was Eden Prime, when he’d found her fleeing the enemy, trying to survive. At his command she had turned around and walked right back into the fire.

As for Alenko…he didn’t actually have to wonder. Kaidan had a reputation for walking around with his nose stuck in a rulebook, but Shepard could think of more than one instance where he had changed the parameters of a mission against orders – and Kaidan hadn’t blinked.

“I think you know the answer to my question,” Anderson said. “And to answer yours, that’s why.”

“Sir…”

Anderson smiled. “It’s all right, son. Why do you think I’ve been on your ass pushing you all these years? Do you know how many commanders Admiral Hackett asks for regular reports on?”

“ _Hackett_ keeps tabs on me?”

“Yes.”

“Ok. I’ll bite. How many others?”

“None. Just you. You think I was the only one who recommended you to the Council?”

Shepard was silent. The commander of the Fifth Fleet kept tabs on him. Why the hell was he the last to know about everything?

“So. Are you ready to notify the crew?”

“That should go over well,” Shepard muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It looks like I’m stealing your job.”

“I don’t think it’ll be as bad as you think.”

Nearly the entire crew of the Normandy waited for them in the CIC. Alenko, Williams, Pressly, Dr. Chakwas, Adams among several others, and at the head of them all stood Joker, arms crossed defiantly across his chest as Anderson explained to them the change in command. There was no need to relay the news about Shepard’s Spectre induction; it was all the news feeds had been broadcasting for the last several hours.

Silence followed Anderson’s announcement. Shepard shifted his feet.

“We’re behind you,” Joker said suddenly. The crew nodded and murmured a chorus of agreements.

“I mean,” he said with a somewhat guilty look at Anderson, “What they did to you was bullshit. Sir.”

“Thank you, Joker,” Anderson said with a smile.

“But Commander, just give the order. We’re all in. Whatever it takes.”

 _It means the best ship with the best crew_ , Udina had said.

He had that part right.

 


	11. Stricta Spatiis

Garrus paused on the ramp bisecting the _Normandy’s_ cargo bay, the bag containing his personal items slung over his shoulder, the one containing his weapons and armor lying at his feet. The cavernous room smelled of lubricant and coolant, slowly mixing with the unmistakable musky scent of krogan. On the left were crew lockers, one of which presumably belonged to him now, and a weapons’ bench. On the right hulked the six-wheeled infantry tank Shepard had called a Mako. Near the head of the tank Garrus could hear the heavy stirrings of Wrex as he rudely arranged things to his liking. Neither Garrus nor Wrex fit in the human-designed sleeper pods, so Shepard was making arrangements to have the necessary equipment delivered for them to bunk in the cargo bay. 

A turian. And a krogan. Sharing the same sleeping space on a human frigate.

What the hell was he _doing?_

He could just imagine the message he’d get from his father once he heard his firstborn child and only son had quit his job and thrown his lot in with a Spectre. A human Spectre. If the very news didn’t give him a coronary.

Garrus had disappointed his father plenty of times over the years, but this one probably sat alone at the top of the heap. 

_I just turned my back on my entire career to live with a krogan and chase a mad turian halfway around the galaxy._

When he thought about it in those terms it sounded a lot crazier than it had when Shepard had been standing at the door of his apartment, asking him to help bring the man who was now the most wanted fugitive in the galaxy to justice. Shepard had made it sound like an opportunity, _the_ opportunity to stand up for his people,  be a hero. Shepard had made him _believe_ , and what’s more it hadn’t been a tough sell. 

Until, of course, he found himself standing in this poorly lit cargo bay with a krogan roommate and a rack of shotguns hanging on the far wall. 

_Spirits._ _Dad always said you were a rash, leap first, look later kind of turian, and it seems he was right._

There was a loud clatter of a stack of crates toppling to the floor, followed by a string of krogan curses that made Garrus wince. He wondered if Shepard had even heard of the genophage, or realized that of the entire crew he was the worst possible species to leave alone with the one ton reptile. 

He heard the slow grind of gears signaling the arrival of the cargo elevator. When it finally came to a creaking halt the door opened to reveal Shepard himself. Garrus wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or dismayed. 

“Settling in?” Shepard asked, casually swinging his arms and making a beeline for Garrus.

“I…think so Commander,” Garrus replied, a hesitant chord resonating in his subvocals. “Turian military upringing means we don’t really need much to be comfortable.”

“But?” Shepard prompted. 

Garrus flicked a mandible, surprised Shepard had caught on to his hesitation. His eyes slid briefly to the hulking shape over by the Mako, but not quick enough to go unnoticed. 

The expression on Shepard’s face shifted quickly from relaxed to something different. Concern, maybe. The incredible depth of human expression was fascinating to Garrus. Turians depended so heavily on vocal subharmonics and subtle body language for their social cues, but not humans. Everything you needed to know about their mood, physical well-being and _guilt_ was all right there in the fleshy canvas of their face for anyone to see, provided you understood what it meant. Garrus wasn’t sure whether to pity or envy them. 

“Something wrong?” Shepard asked. 

“Commander,” Garrus said slowly, grateful that the inflections in his subharmonics would be totally lost on the human. He had found that you could train yourself to see visual tics, even if they were created by an alien anatomy. But vocal ‘tells’ were nearly impossible to learn if your ears weren’t designed to pick them up. Salarians were about the only species who had accomplished it to any degree, but they were, well. Salarians. “How much do you know about krogan, turian relations?” 

Shepard folded his arms loosely over his chest. “You mean the genophage.” 

“Well, yes.”

“I know the basics. Will it be a problem?” 

“Not from me, no,” Garrus said quickly. “That was hundreds of years before I was born. But Wrex on the other hand…well, it’s not quite such ancient history to him.” 

Shepard nodded, never moving his gaze. Garrus shifted his feet.

“Wrex won’t be a problem,” Shepard said at last, then glanced at the bag on the floor. “Sniper?” he asked, effectively ending the discussione elongated shapeced at the bag resting by Garrus'accomplished it to any degree, but they were, well. Salarians. .

Garrus crouched down next to the bag and pulled out the case with his rifle. “Halitat Armory,” he said. “Nothing flashy, but I’ve added a few mods that make it hit pretty hard.”

Shepard tapped the corner of his eye. “Like the visor?”

“Yes,” Garrus said, pleased Shepard had noticed. “Turian design based on the Kuwashii model. I commissioned it special.” He reached up and ran a talon lovingly along the frame. “Sonar, LADAR, thermal and EM targeting. Biofeedback monitors, kinetic barrier targeting solutions and that’s just the basics.” 

He held up his rifle, brushed against the catch that extended the barrel to its full length with a soft hiss and looked down the sight. The visor overlay was his most comfortable way of looking at the world. Combine it with a scope and that world became his own personal playground. 

“Impressive,” Shepard said. “Williams was asking me about it.” 

That surprised him a little. He got the distinct impression Williams didn’t like him. At first he’d thought it was his winning personality, but after seeing the encounter with Tali he thought it was more likely she didn’t like much of anyone.

“Tell me something, Garrus,” Shepard said, almost thoughtfully. Garrus retracted the barrel, slid the gun back into its case with a click and tilted his head toward Shepard. 

“Why leave C-Sec? Why come with me? Human ship, human crew. Can’t be all that comfortable for you.”

Garrus’ mandible flickered. That question wound its way through some personal territory that he wasn’t too sure about himself. He thumbed the latch of his rifle case, then put it back in the bag and zipped it closed, half hoping that Shepard would change the subject. But instead he leaned against one of the ramp supports and waited, as though he had all the time in the world. 

“I came to C-Sec thinking I could make a difference,” Garrus said at last. “My father was a C-Sec man to the core, so I grew up hearing about bringing criminals to justice, doing things the C-Sec way. But it turns out doing things the C-Sec way has a lot more to do with compromise than it does justice.”

Shepard gestured with one hand. “And you think being here means shackles off.”

_Careful_ , Garrus thought. _You’re being tested._ “I think it means you’ll do whatever it takes to get the job done. If I may be so bold, sir, your history with the Alliance indicates that you know when to do things the way everyone likes to hear about, and when to do things the way people prefer not to.”

There was a flicker across Shepard’s face, but damn it, too subtle for Garrus to interpret. “I see you did your homework on me.” 

That one threw him. “Er, homework?”

A small smile passed Shepard’s lips. “Sorry. Research. You researched me.”

Garrus shifted almost uncomfortably. “A good cop is always prepared. The raid on Torfan…well, it looked like nasty business.” 

Shepard rubbed idly at a smudge on the support he was leaning against. “Didn’t realize there was that much detail in the public record,” he said. His tone was maddeningly neutral. Garrus’ plates tightened. He had no idea how loose the sand was under his feet, but had to figure it was pretty loose. 

“I’m turian, Commander. I did my time in the military. I read between the lines.” 

Shepard nodded absently, then to Garrus’ absolute shock he clapped him on the shoulder, an invasion of space most turians considered taboo, but Shepard somehow made feel normal. 

“Welcome to the _Normandy_ , Garrus. Glad to have you along.” 

~

Tucked inside the engine room a short distance from Garrus, Tali stood with her hands poised above a terminal, gazing into the churning blue sphere of the ship’s drive core. The drive output the _Normandy_ was capable of seemed to outright flirt with the laws of physics. Growing up in the Migrant Fleet she had been around almost any kind of ship imaginable, knew every bolt and bulkhead of more than a few ships in the Flotilla, but next to the _Normandy_ even the _Rayya_ seemed like a common freighter. She kept checking her biofeeds to convince herself she wasn’t dreaming. 

And if that wasn’t enough, Engineer Adams seemed _thrilled_ to have her. He’d spent the last several hours going over different systems, ecstatic whenever she asked a question. It was a little terrifying at first, to be honest. Everywhere she had been since leaving the Flotilla she had been acutely reminded of the galaxy’s indifference to the quarian race. Those who didn’t actively scorn her looked right through her as though she were made of glass. Had it not been for  Keenah she thought she might have given up and gone home, to hell with the stigma and shame that would result from returning from her Pilgrimage empty handed. When he had died her first thought hadn’t been to mourn, but to curse him for leaving her alone, something she hadn’t stopped feeling guilty for yet, and maybe never would. 

That her fortunes could make this big of a reversal was something straight out of _Fleet and Flotilla._ And yet…the longer she stood here, in the belly of this perfect ship, the more homesick she got. The more she poked into the IES prototype and the revolutionary propulsion systems the more she missed the _Rayya’s_ aging engines and quirky FTL drive. More often than not quarian ships were held together with little more than a hot patch and a few prayers. Secretly everyone always walked around with tension in their shoulders, hidden by their suits but always there just the same as they listened for the sound of a problem fuel cell or a heat sink failure. There was none of that here on the _Normandy,_ and none of the stress that came with being responsible for the lives of millions. And somehow she missed it. 

She missed listening to Raan’s stories about the Admiralty Board – the things her father would never tell her. She missed sneaking food from the Commons with Cora and Neeta, putting Jaxa in his place with her superior hack algorithms. As much as she had hated being in close quarters, constantly having to sacrifice for the good of her shipmates, always putting the good of the Flotilla before herself…now that it was gone she desperately wanted it all back. 

It didn’t matter how nice Adams or Caroline Grenado were. None of these humans had any idea what it was like to live your life enclosed in a suit, and that simple fact made finding the closeness Tali had been surrounded with her whole life impossible to find. 

She’d thought about contacting her father as soon as she got on board, but quickly rejected the idea. It was always her first instinct to go to him when she had a problem, and every time she did she always felt like she’d disappointed him in some way. _You are the daughter of an Admiral. You should be able to handle this yourself._

_I’m trying,_ she thought desperately. 

But even in the company of the engineers Tali was lonely. And really, _really_ hungry.

That was another thing she hadn’t considered when she brokered her deal with Shepard. She was a dextro. It wasn’t something she’d ever really thought much about until she’d found herself on a ship of levos, surrounded by food she couldn’t eat. Shepard, who hadn’t thought about it either, was quickly trying to make arrangements to stock the mess hall accordingly, and not just with the bland paste she’d been stuck with lately. Shepard was after real food, ingredients and recipes they could put to use. But in the meantime she was just hungry. 

“Coffee?” Adams asked pleasantly. Grenado had just shown up with a tray of mugs from the mess. Tali liked Grenado; she was younger than most of the other humans on the ship, which made Tali feel less self-conscious about her own age. Her brown eyes were full of humor, she laughed a lot, and like Adams she didn’t give Tali’s presence a second thought. But really, Tali admitted, it was her hair. It was honey brown, shorn just above her shoulders, and the way it swished and swung when she moved was absolutely fascinating to her. Humans were the only other species Tali had met that grew hair, and being among them made her wonder what living unhooded would be like, to remove the growth suppressors and see if her hair would be short and springy like Grenado’s or long and thick like Williams’. 

Grenado offered the tray, steam curling up from the rim of each mug, carrying a rich, penetrating aroma that made her mouth water.

Tali ducked her head. “I can’t drink it,” she said, embarrassed.

Adams’ face flushed. “So sorry,” he said. “I’m such an idiot. I keep forgetting. Really, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” she said, concealing a small sigh. Grenado bit her lip as Adams quickly snatched one mug, then retreated over to Mochizuki, the other engineer on duty. 

Adams tried to change the subject. “Has the simulation we ran on the FTL drive modifications finished compiling?”

Tali swiped at her terminal, grateful for the distraction. “Yes. The electrical current overflow is at four percent. About what we expected.”

“But we can do better?” 

She thought for a moment, going over the options in her head. “I think I can design a shunt that refines the flow a little better. Want me to try?” 

Adams beamed. “Of course!” He glanced conspiratorially over at Grenado and Mochizuki. “Those two have good heads on their shoulders, but this kind of thing is over their paygrade. Not that they aren’t talented,” he added quickly. “It’s just I don’t think I’ve ever been around someone who thinks about engines on the level you do.”

Tali tilted her chin with pride, but it vanished quickly when her stomach rumbled. It was getting harder to distract herself, and to top it off she was tired. She hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since finding the geth, and her limbs felt like lead. 

“I think I’m going to get some rest, if it’s all right with you,” she said. She was half afraid he’d say no. Everything had happened so fast she didn’t actually know where she fit in with the _Normandy’s_ military hierarchy, who she answered to and what role, if any, she was expected to fulfill. 

“Of course!” Adams said cheerfully. “I’m sure you’re exhausted.” He took another sip from his mug, the tantalizing smell almost too much to bear.

She bid a mumbled farewell and headed out one of the twin doors behind her that stood on either side of the elevator bulkhead. The cargo bay seemed overly dark after being enclosed with the shimmering drive core, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Which was why she smacked right into Garrus as they both tried to enter the elevator.

“Sorry!” she quipped, heart yammering in her throat when the turian’s talons gripped her arm to keep his balance. Her heart monitor chirped in dismay. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see, I’m such a—”

“Oh, you’re fine,” Garrus insisted before she could finish. The moment he was firmly on his feet again he hastily let go. “I didn’t see you either. For a second there I thought you were an angry krogan looking for revenge.”

She stifled a laugh. Garrus straightened his posture a little, seemingly pleased. He was still wearing the visor he’d been wearing in the alley. She wondered if it was by choice or necessity. 

He looked different than other turians she had seen, and it wasn’t just the visor. It took her a moment to put her finger on what it was. His armor was standard turian fit with the wide bowl-shaped cowl at the top that accommodated the large carapace underneath. His skin was pallid gray, with a flat nose and clan markings across his face. Ah, she realized. That’s what it was. The markings were dark blue, not white. Garrus’ were also more subtle than some; instead of covering his entire face they crossed the bridge of his nose and traced the lower curve of his eyes, with a separate pattern on the rear of each mandible. The darker color had a completely different effect than the bold white markings she’d seen on the Citadel. They made him seem more _real_ , somehow, less like a man wearing a mask, as hypocritical as it sounded. Not to mention the color matched his eyes. Or at least the one that wasn’t under the eyepiece. 

“You just missed our illustrious Commander,” he told her. “Ever feel like you just failed a test you didn’t even realize you were taking?” 

“Yes,” she said, too quickly. She looked down at her feet. “I mean, I think.” 

Shepard had paid her a visit a couple of hours ago, and she was pretty sure she knew exactly what Garrus was talking about. Shepard might be the first human – first non _quarian_ who didn’t just see a suit when he looked at her. It had been incredibly disconcerting.

Garrus gave her a small nod, as though he understood without needing her to elaborate. Tali kneaded her hands together. Neither one of them had thought to push the button to take them to the crew deck, and now she was too self-conscious to mention it.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, and she jumped. “Are you as famished as I am? I have to say, having another dextro aboard is a huge relief.”

“I’m starving,” she admitted. 

“Well, lucky for us I was able to use a few of my C-Sec connections to get us some rations that will tide us over until Shepard gets us fully stocked.” 

Her eyes widened, hopeful. “Really?”

He nodded, somberly. “I’m not going to let a young lady _starve_ , am I? What kind of a C-Sec officer would I be?”

_One completely unlike the other turian I dealt with on the Citadel_ , she thought, remembering Chellik’s cold dismissal. Aloud, she said: “I thought you were _former_ C-Sec?”

“Oh, I am. Believe me I am. I can’t tell you how good it feels to get out of there.”

Tali reached out quickly to hit the elevator button, hoping he wouldn’t notice. 

“You have no idea what it’s like,” he went on, “training to bring justice to the wronged and put bad guys in jail only to find out the whole process is nothing but a political ploy so full of loopholes the bad guy not only walks free, but gets an apology for being bothered in the first place.” 

She happily listened to his rant, which grew more heated with each word. 

Garrus sighed. “Out here, serving with a Spectre? We’ve got no rules. They give us a problem and say get it done. No questions asked. Amazing. My father is going to kill me. Spirits, could this thing go _any_ slower?”

She laughed a little. “I take it your father is not a fan of Spectres?” 

“To put it mildly. He was a C-Sec man to the core. Guess I don’t quite measure up there.” Garrus paused, and a sense of shame entered his voice. “So I really hope I measure up here. Because otherwise I’ll have a _lot_ of explaining to do.”

At last the lift stepped and the door slid open. He gestured grandly for her to go ahead of him and followed her to the mess, chatting nonstop, oblivious to the odd looks they were getting from the rest of the crew. It was hours before she thought about being lonely.

~

Shepard poured Pressly a drink from the bottle he’d snagged from the mess. The two were seated in Andersons – his – quarters to try and figure out how to run an Alliance ship that was now under the command of a Spectre. Figuring out how the chain of command was supposed to work was one of many complexities they needed to unravel. Shepard figured the booze was a good way to make things go a little smoother. __

At least the first few crises had been solved. They had food the entire crew could eat. Everyone had somewhere to sleep. Of course, the latter solution hadn’t made everyone happy. 

“You seriously want a krogan to make himself at home in our armory?” Pressly asked, sipping cautiously from the glass Shepard had offered him, trying to figure out what it was. Some kind of asari brandy that had looked expensive.

“Where else do you want me to put him?” Shepard asked, sitting heavily in the chair by Anderson’s – _his –_ desk. “Think he’d be willing to share a bunk with Joker?” 

Pressly grimaced. “Touché. But letting him sleep with all of our shotguns hardly seems like a good plan if you actually want us to live long enough to find Saren.” 

Shepard shrugged. “Find me an alternative.”

Pressly didn’t have one. Their first meeting was off to a great start. 

Shepard’s wandering gaze came to rest on the bed. The sheets probably needed to be changed, and Shepard realized he had no idea what kind of laundry facilities the _Normandy_ had.  Or if they even had a spare set of sheets.

He let the thought go when he realized Pressly was studying him carefully, hesitant. 

“What?” he asked, though he knew what was coming. 

Pressly inhaled deeply. “Are you sure about bringing these aliens onboard, Commander?” 

Pressly was old enough to have been around for the First Contact war. As far as he was concerned, being suspicious of an alien wasn’t racist, it was downright _pragmatic._ Shepard couldn’t help but admire him for it a little. 

“We’re hunting a turian,” Shepard said. “Doesn’t it make sense to have a turian on board? Especially one who wants to see Saren behind bars?”

“You’re assuming the krogan won’t kill Garrus before we find Saren. Besides, I’m not so sure Garrus wouldn’t put a bullet through you or me if it meant getting to Saren,” Pressly countered, and Shepard thought again of Dr. Michel. He liked to believe Garrus took the shot because he was just that confident, but he was forced to admit it was very possible collateral damage didn’t mean a whole lot. Not that Shepard could judge – he’d made more than a few decisions that were high on collateral damage. The difference was doing it because it was right verses doing it because you could. Which side of the fence Garrus landed on was still to be determined. 

“Garrus will be fine,” Shepard said, downing his drink.

“And the krogan?”

Shepard shrugged. “Don’t piss him off.” 

Pressly shot him a look. 

“We need him,” Shepard said. “We don’t really know what we’re up against yet. Having the brute force of a krogan on our side might be a big help.”

Pressly tapped a datapad against his lap. “I still think it’s a bad idea.”

The myriad consequences that having Wrex on board could cause were enough to make Shepard break into a cold sweat. But he’d already made the call, and if he’d been given the chance to change his mind he didn’t think he would. It was just a matter of convincing everyone else. “Why don’t you go down there and introduce yourself? Have a conversation.”

“A conversation. With a krogan.”

“You might be surprised,” Shepard said. “Turns out clan Urdnot was actually a very highly respected one, back when the clans really mattered.” 

“So why is he a mercenary?” Pressly asked. “That’s not exactly noble for a Battlemaster.”

“Genophage,” Shepard said simply. “It’s amazing what a slow burn towards extinction does to your give-a-shit meter.”

“So if he doesn’t give a shit, why are we trusting him?”

Shepard swirled his glass, then set it down on his desk, half finished. “Like I said. Go talk to him. And look at his C-Sec file. There’s a reason he’s a Battlemaster. He killed a thresher maw on _foot._ And that was a few hundred years ago. Imagine how much he’s learned since then.” 

“You know, I’d rather not.” 

Shepard waited. “Aren’t you going to ask me about the quarian?” 

Pressly snorted. “I would, but I think Adams would space me. He’s in love. Says he’s never seen someone with her kind of enthusiasm about engines. She’s a learning sponge. Whether that’s good or bad remains to be seen.”

Shepard chuckled, running a hand over the stubble of hair on his head. “You’re going to be all right, old man. As stubborn as you are, I think I’m going to need a dose of your cynicism every now and then.”

“Oh, there’ll be no shortage of that, sir.” Pressly eased back in his chair, cracking a smug smile. “I’ve set a course for Artemis Tau. With three relay jumps we should reach Therum in about eighteen hours.”

Not for the first time, Shepard wondered what the daughter of an asari matriarch was doing in a volcanic hellhole like Therum. “Good. Hopefully that will be enough time to learn a little bit more about this Dr. T’Soni.”

Pressly regarded him curiously. “What do you know?”

Shepard shrugged. “She’s an asari who likes to dig up protheans. In weird places. According to the database, Therum isn’t all that distinguishable from hell. It just also happens to also have some prothean ruins.” 

He leaned over his desk, fishing amidst a sea of datapads for the right one and handing it to Pressly, who scanned it quickly. Shepard looked hopelessly at the pile on his desk while he waited. The amount of paperwork he needed to go through for the Alliance about becoming a Spectre was almost enough for him to call the Council and tell them never mind. 

“Intense heat, active volcanoes, toxic air…” Pressly looked up. “This place looks wonderful. Why the hell would protheans build there?”

Shepard shrugged. “Things change. Maybe fifty thousand years ago it was a trendy beach getaway.”

“What kind of a team does T’Soni have?” Pressly asked. “Can we expect resistance?”

“I guess that depends on what side she’s on. According to the records, she went down there by herself. But that doesn’t mean she’s alone now.”

“Wow. Who volunteers to hang out in volcanos by herself? She’s either got a krogan’s quad or a serious death wish. Hell, I guess both are a possibility. Maybe you’ll get a chance to see how valuable your krogan is.”

“I’m pretty sure if you refer to him as mine, he’ll break your spine.”

Pressly smiled, but then his face grew solemn. “I trust your judgment, Shepard. Going after a Spectre is going to mean a lot of infiltration work, ground teams. That’s where you’re at your best. I’ll run the _Normandy_ better than anyone in the fleet, but that’s not going to be enough for what we’re up against. You need to surround yourself with a strong team made of people you can trust. If that means  krogans, quarians, turians…you won’t be getting resistance from me. You’re just going to have to indulge an old campaigner’s grumbling once in a while. But this old campaigner is going to look after your ship and your crew, no matter who it is.” 

“You’re a good man, Pressly,” Shepard said, leaning forward and propping an elbow on his thigh. “I don’t have the experience Captain Anderson had. But I’m glad I have your confidence.”

Pressly shook his head. “Experience is relative, Commander, and you’ve had more than all of us. I’ve seen what it can do to an average soldier, but you’re not an average soldier. We’re all in good hands. God have mercy on Saren, because we won’t.” 

Shepard picked up his glass and raised it towards his XO. “Amen to that.” Pressly returned the gesture. Pressly killed the rest of the glass in one go. Anderson had done well in choosing him. _Because when he did it, he knew that Pressly would wind up XO._

The entire crew had been picked with Shepard in mind. _So if you screw up, it’s all on you._

* * *


	12. Caerulus

Deep within the belly of an abandoned mineshaft on Therum, Liara T’Soni sat back on her knees and held a flat, rectangular artifact up to the light of one of the portable stands strung up around her workspace. It was small enough to fit in her palm, with no markings other than a shallow groove curving across its smooth, black face. If this piece was at all like some of the others she’d found, that groove was some kind of circuitry. But if it was similar in other respects, she wouldn’t be able to access whatever those circuits might contain. 

Finding working prothean technology was rare. Even rarer was actually extracting any data. The protheans seemed to have some way of storing and accessing information that was beyond any conventional means, remarkable when you considered how similar the current known spacefaring cultures actually were to one another. If she wanted to access a salarian data cache, she might run into a few snags with the interface and security protocols, but aside from cultural differences, their methods of using a computer were fundamentally the same. The protheans on the other hand…

This small piece of circuitry represented a kind of technology that the asari hadn’t come close to unlocking. Liara was positive there was some physiological key to it that was beyond their ability to duplicate, meaning the protheans had found a way to combine organic components and technology that was beyond their wildest comprehensions. 

She blew a puff of air out the corner of her mouth, turning the piece over in her hands a few times. _What are you?_ For all she knew everything of value in this derelict place could be right here in the palm of her hand.

She pushed herself to her feet. There was a portable power source somewhere in her things that might at least be able to tell her if the circuits were still good. 

A draft blew gently through the cavern, sending a chill rippling up her spine. She still hadn’t gotten the atmospheric regulators to work right. Inside the prothean tower itself the temperature was a little more tolerable, but she still wasn’t entirely confident that it was stable. Therefore she had set up camp in the abandoned mine that surrounded it, trading the sterile, whitewashed walls of prothean architecture for red rock and the faint, musty smell of rusting equipment. 

How could anyone have found this amazing structure, a massive prothean tower _completely_ encased in rock, and only been interested in mining the resources surrounding it? 

There was nothing else on Therum even approaching this level of significance. The prothean ruins scattered across the main landmasses were long bereft of anything that might be of value. But even if she’d been among the first to explore them, she doubted she would have found much to get excited about on the surface. It seemed that either time – or maybe something else – had seen to it that little remained to provide any clues about who the protheans were, how they lived, or why they had vanished.

So much knowledge. So much power. The protheans had explored and conquered the stars using technology the asari were only beginning to understand after thousands of years of dedicated research. What could have possibly beaten them, other than themselves? She refused to believe the culture that had built the Citadel and opened windows into countless corners of the galaxy had been bested by something like disease, or some bizarre natural phenomenon. The meager evidence that had been found was sufficient to rule out some kind of internal civil war. The protheans had not rotted on their own roots. If they had, the simple truth was there would be more left to find.

That same logic also ruled out what might be the simplest answer, that they had just…left. Some, like that idiot Dr. Neliya, had created and somehow been allowed to _publish_ theories that the protheans had advanced to such a state that the Milky Way no longer held their interest. Using the relays, she theorized that they had somehow opened a door into a neighboring galaxy, stepped through it, and left. It sounded impressive, especially coming from Dr.  Henell’s lead graduate student. But Liara knew what Neliya didn’t, because unlike Neliya, Liara didn’t do her research from an office at the University of Serrice. She did it here, surrounded by the remnants of the protheans themselves. And what she had seen completely contradicted the idea that the protheans had just one day gotten bored and moved on. 

Time alone was not enough to have worn away the traces of their existence to this degree. Fifty thousand years sounded like an eternity even to an asari, but in the eyes of the galaxy it was a mere eye blink. If the mass relays and the Citadel were still not only standing but fully functional, there was no reason to believe everything else had just crumbled into dust on its own. Whatever had happened had been so cataclysmic, so utter, that it had taken nearly all traces of the protheans with it. Finding out why was what had drawn Liara into the belly of this hellhole.

She tried to imagine the Therum that the protheans had seen, the place some had once called home, instead of the poisonous pit that had greeted her upon arrival. Planetary core samples indicated that at some point it had probably been not only capable of supporting life, but perhaps done so in spectacular fashion. It was hard to overlay the volcanos belching rivers of fire, the sulfur infused air, the roiling black skies and intense heat with a garden world that once reared a powerful civilization. 

How many more towers like this one, entirely constructed underground, might there be on this planet? Had the conditions started to shift before the protheans had vanished? Had they known something was wrong, and tried to preserve something, anything, that might help them weather it? Had they left it here hoping – knowing – that someone like Liara might come along looking for answers? 

Ok, that last thought was a little too romantic. _You’ve been alone here too long._

She dug around in a case she had left near an old mining laser, looking for that power source. A glance at her chronometer told her it was much, much later than she realized. Usually when she was on a dig she had a few colleagues with her that helped maintain some semblance of normalcy. But down here by herself, any notion of a regular sleeping/eating schedule had been totally destroyed by day two. It might not be healthy, but she didn’t think she’d ever been so _exhilarated_ on an expedition before. Here she wasn’t sharing anything with anyone, compromising her priorities, conforming to someone else’s agenda. Here it was just her, surrounded by the ghosts of a culture she treasured more than her own. If her mother could see her now, covered from head to toe in dust, sustained on nothing but freeze dried rations and sleeping on a cot under a mining laser, she’d faint. 

“Found it!” she said out loud, startling herself as her own voice echoed back to her off the walls of the cavern. She flushed a little. 

The power source purred to life in her hand. She connected it to the fragment and waited, hoping something might happen. Nothing.

She let out a small sigh of frustration. _Maybe there’s something in the tower you can use._

The buried tower was a cylindrical space spanning five levels. A massive central core – _oh, the data that is probably stored in there!_ – ran the length of it. Surrounding it on each level were several compartments, almost like storage bays, that were empty save for a handful of ancient terminals. A platform that probably provided elevator access to each level was stuck on the bottom floor. The mining tunnels didn’t reach that deep and she hadn’t spent time trying to get it to work from here. It was one thing to trust the mine elevators. They were rickety, but at least she knew when they’d been built. Trusting a fifty thousand year old platform was a little much, even for her. 

She found it odd that there was no apparent exit to the surface. Just getting to the uppermost level involved using the abandoned mine tunnels the humans had built and descending about a hundred meters into the rock. That was one thing that made her think the protheans might have built it with the intention of concealing it entirely from the surface. Whatever the original means they had used to access it was either gone, or hadn’t been discovered yet.

She rubbed at the sensitive skin on her neck just under her skull crest. The two weeks she’d spent down in this hole had made her normally sky blue skin dull and dry, but she refused to admit she might actually have an allergy problem. An archeologist sensitive to dust and dry places? Please.

There was another thing that bothered her about the tower, something she hadn’t written about yet. In part because she wasn’t sure she was right and also because there was no way Neliya or anyone associated with her would allow Liara to publish it without railing against her credibility. This tower just didn’t _seem_ prothean. Oh, they had definitely used it. There was no question the piece she held in her hand along with many others she had found here were distinctly prothean. But the construction of the core itself, its curved, unadorned walls, the low ceilings and just…the feeling of it, were utterly incongruent with other prothean ruins she had explored. It could have simply come from a different age of prothean history, maybe an earlier one that hadn’t been well documented yet. But Liara didn’t think so. 

This wasn’t the first time she had encountered something like this, though it was the first time on this big of a scale. Up until now it had been little things, small artifacts and bits of technology that were associated with prothean finds, but seemed somehow un-prothean. As though they had been studying something.

_As though maybe they, too, had found evidence of some long dead culture, and were trying to figure out what had happened to them_. 

That thought in itself was alarming, but even more so was her hunch – unverified, but she was _sure_ – that those small, seemingly insignificant but disparate pieces were not from one previous culture, but many.

Enough to suggest a repeated cycle of extinction on a massive scale.

What if the protheans had seen what she saw, and were trying to find out the cause, only to suffer the same fate? The implications were too terrifying to think about. 

Liara had managed to dump power to the terminals in the compartment bays shortly after her arrival. The rush of adrenaline she’d felt when the light panels had flared to life, wreathing the tower in an ethereal glow had been one of the most exhilarating things she’d ever felt. Of course, it had been almost immediately followed by a near heart attack when she’d accidentally triggered a barrier curtain that trapped her inside the core. Thankfully it was easy enough to deactivate; apparently a security measure meant to keep others out rather than keep her in.

She approached the closest terminal, eying the piece in her hand and searching for some kind of slot that might match. The terminal, at least, was definitely prothean, and thankfully one with a tactile interface. 

Though she hadn’t found a place to connect it, the piece in her hand began to thrum. The groove on the front began to glow a soft blue . A shiver of excitement wound through her. _It works!_ Now it was just a matter of trying to find a way to access it.

An alarm klaxon sounded. Liara frowned and craned her head to look back towards the mine cavern. Was that her proximity alarm? She had only set it up to alert her that the shuttle had come to pick her up from Nova Yekaterinburg, but that wasn’t supposed to be for another month. She doubted anyone from the colony had come looking for her. They had seemed totally uninterested in the ruins when she arrived. It had been a lot harder than she’d thought to even charter a shuttle out here. 

She walked cautiously back towards the cavern. Above her head there was a clatter and the slow creak of the mining elevator. Someone was here. _Goddess!_

Frantically she tried to remember where she’d stuffed her pistol. In one of the bags by the mining laser. If she ran she might be able to get it before whoever it was reached this level. She took two quick strides, then halted in her tracks. Three drones drifted lazily past the front of the bay, flitting about like bees. When they spotted Liara they snapped to attention, leveling the barrel of a machine gun right at her head. 

With a gasp she drew a hand across herself, a blue biotic corona flaring to life and quickly enveloping her in a protective skin-tight bubble. The drones’ first barrage clattered off her body with a shower of blue sparks but sent her stumbling backwards. She pivoted hard on one foot, spinning around as she fell to her knees hard enough to make her teeth rattle. Bracing herself with one hand she pushed back to her feet, ignoring the lancing pain in her right knee and ran for the core. When she reached the terminal she whipped around and held up one hand, feeling every nerve in her body tingle as a plume dark energy snaked up her arm. She hurled the field towards the drones, creating a shearing vortex that trapped them like flies in a web. They spasmed, jerked, the forces of gravity in the powerful field working to rip them apart. 

The elevator arrived, bringing with it a conflux of distorted, mechanical sounds.

Liara slammed her hand down on the panel to activate the barrier. It sprang to life, but too late she realized she’d hit something other than the trigger mechanism by accident. With a scream she was swept into the air and dragged _inside_ the curtain, suspended inside a bubble with her arms and legs outstretched, locked solidly in place. Around the corner from the direction of the elevator bobbed several metallic heads with blue lights gleaming from the center of their would-be faces, followed by a giant krogan. 

_Oh,_ Goddess _—_

~

Shepard looked around at the desolate landscape of Therum, trying not to breathe too deeply. Even inside the safety of his helmet the air didn’t seem safe. The planet was every bit as unpleasant as the records indicated it would be. The pungent reek of sulfur made the air thick and heavy, lava churned and boiled in long, weaving rivers and steam hissed from open vents. The temperature readings picked up by his suit were uncomfortably high. His air circulators were working overtime just to keep him cool. 

Heavy mining had made parts of the region unstable, meaning Pressly had done his best to find a reliable drop point within decent range of T’Soni’s supposed dig site. What he had come up with was a few meters from the site itself, near a canyon that was one of the few locations in the area not in the immediate path of the twisting ribbons of lava flowing uncomfortably nearby. Provided there wasn’t an impending seismic shift. 

He had hoped this would be nothing more than simple recon mission. Get in, grab the doctor – willingly or no – and get out. But that was before they’d entered the system and picked up the geth drop ship in orbit. 

“Pressly,” Shepard said into his comm.

“ _I hear you, Commander.”_

“Any sign that the geth have seen us?”

_“Negative._

“Good. Keep me posted.”

_“Aye, sir._ _ Normandy out.”_

He surveyed his team. Garrus was fiddling with the scope on his sniper rifle. With his helmet the turian looked even more birdlike, the tapered place where it covered his crest reminiscent of the nape of a cardinal. 

Tali crouched next to a boulder, programming a few extra tech mines. Inside her suit, this hostile environment was no different than any other. If the air on the _Normandy_ was a threat to the weak quarian immune system, there wasn’t much reason to worry more about  Therum. She carried a pistol and the shotgun she’d had on her when they’d had their encounter in the alley. When Shepard had offered her any shotgun in the _Normandy’s_ arsenal she had vehemently refused. Something about that shotgun was deeply personal to her, so for now Shepard left it alone. 

Wrex stood still as a statue, head tilted into the wind as though he were sniffing out their enemy. He was fully encased in the heavy, rust colored Mercenary armor that oddly enough was made by Ariake Technologies, a human corporation. The krogan was intimidating enough on his own, but the red orbs covering his eyes and the fearsome looking respirators on either side of his helmet made him seem more like a mindless, terrifying Frankenstein construct than a living, breathing being. In his hands he clutched the giant krogan shotgun he’d ‘retrieved’ from C-Sec before their departure from the Citadel. Strapped to his back was a Banshee assault rifle. 

Alenko was coordinating the best route to their target with his omnitool while Williams looked around at the aliens with careful wariness. At first Shepard had thought about just taking Alenko and Williams, but he hadn’t brought the aliens on board to sit around and do nothing. No time like the present to see if this disparate bunch could all fight on the same team.

The ridge where Joker had dropped them off overlooked a narrow, sloping descent pocked with boulders leading down into the canyon and back up the other side, where the old mine that served as Liara’s dig site was located. The center of the canyon was much broader, obscured by rock formations that would at least provide some cover. But it also meant they couldn’t see what the geth were doing.

He glanced at Tali who approached him almost nervously, omnitool out. “What do you see?” he asked her. 

“I’m reading a lot of geth in the canyon. We’ll have to try to get past them undetected.” 

In their mission briefing she had done her best to explain how the geth functioned. Their neural network operated on a process based level that grew more efficient the more geth there were in proximity. Not a hive mind, she had been careful to point out, but more of a shared synthetic “subconscious” that allowed them to free up processing power by coordinating low level functions. The gist of it was, the more there were, the smarter they got. 

“Even if we can slip past them to get in, we’ll still have to deal with them when we get out, and I’d rather take care of them now and not have to fight them on two fronts.” 

She nodded brusquely.

“Got enough mines ready?” 

She patted the pouch at her side. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

Shepard had sent her off with Alenko before their arrival in hopes of finding out why his sabotage mine had failed on Eden Prime. The young engineer had taken his LT to task, showing him a few tricks that had left him slackjawed. That was one pair at least he knew could work together. Tali was brilliant and Alenko didn’t let his ego get in the way of performance. 

He called over to Garrus, who came smartly to attention. 

“Sir?”

Shepard gestured towards the ridge. “Find yourself a good vantage point to cover us. Don’t shoot until you have to. We want to keep the element of surprise as long as we can.”

“No problem.” He patted his rifle. 

“Alenko, you Williams and Tali will take the left side of the canyon. Stay low, stay quiet. Williams. Your job is to cover them and make sure they can fire those tech mines at will.” He looked over at the krogan. “Wrex, you’re with me. We’re going to take out as many as we can as fast as we can.” He wasn’t confident yet that the krogan could be trusted to look out for someone else, but with the others on distraction detail that left the brute force to Shepard. And he was pretty sure brute force was something he could definitely trust a krogan with. 

“Good,” Wrex rumbled, hefting his shotgun.

Shepard nodded. “We regroup at the dig site. Understood?”

He got a chorus of affirmations.

“Move out.” 

The five of them navigated the descent into the canyon carefully and quietly, using the rock face for cover wherever possible. Shepard’s radar detected several pockets of geth clustered in the center of the canyon. What they were _doing_ he couldn’t say, but at least they weren’t too strung out. He’d rather attack them all at once. 

“Machines,” Wrex muttered over the comm. “If I came all this way just to fight a few piles of walking scrap metal I’ll be disappointed in you, Shepard.”

“Give it a little time,” Shepard told him. “We’re after a rogue Spectre. Before long there’ll be plenty of things trying to kill us.”

As they got closer he could hear them, the same discordant mechanical tones he’d heard on Eden Prime. No discernible words, just sounds. Shepard had no idea if it was some form of verbal communication or something else entirely. 

He signaled to Wrex to hold when they reached an outcrop that would allow him to get a better look and carefully he peered over the rock. There were no drones, but several of the standard trooper units along with a few of the bigger ones with the antennas. Wrex caught sight of the rocket launchers and made a guttural noise in his throat. 

These geth did not seem to be patrolling so much as working on something. What it was didn’t matter. All Shepard cared about was that they were clustered relatively close together. 

Something moved on his periphery, swift and low to the ground. If they wanted to use the element of surprise, it was now or never. 

“Tali,” he said into his comm, hoping they were in position as planned. “ _Now.”_ __

Six small discs sailed through the air, detonating instantly with a spray of orange sparks in the midst of the geth. Overheat klaxons shrieked. At least three troopers seized at contorted angles. Wrex charged out of cover, barreling straight for the big trooper carrying a rocket launcher. He clamped down on one of its synthetic arms and roared, yanking it forward and using his own weight as a pivot. As it stumbled Wrex let go with one hand and ripped the rocket launcher right off its back. With a deep throated laugh he fired it point blank in the machine’s own back. The geth exploded into shrapnel.

Another trooper came up behind the giant krogan but Shepard got to it first, mowing it down with his assault rifle. Two more geth fell sputtering. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alenko and Williams searching for a new position further up the canyon.

So far it was easy. _Way_ too easy…

Shepard whirled as something leapt through the air behind him.Clinging to the rock behind him was a geth completely unlike the others he’d seen. It was built like a biped but moved more like a spider, scuttling on four limbs it could anchor into the wall, head rotated outward like a thing possessed. It did not carry a weapon, but Shepard quickly realized it didn’t need to. A red laser beam sprang from the circle of light in the center of its face and came to rest directly on Shepard’s forehead. There was no time to react. 

A deafening crack shattered the air to the left of his face. The geth shuddered and dropped into a tangle of limbs on the ground. 

_Garrus._ __

“Watch out for the hoppers!” Shepard shouted into his comm. “Now’s our chance. Make for the ridge!” 

Wrex and Williams laid down suppressive fire as Tali planted more mines behind them to slow down any geth still in the canyon. From the sound of things Garrus was thinning the herd one by one. 

_“I’ve got you covered, Shepard,”_ the turian reported. _“They can’t get to your location without coming in to scope.”_

“Good work, Garrus. Stay sharp. We may be looking for a quick exit when this is over.”

Too late Shepard realized the path out of the canyon led them right into a bottleneck. At the top of the far ridge the path jagged to the right, taking them right in front of two sentry towers. 

A piece of rock shattered just to the right of his head. Snipers. _Damn._

Alenko had also seen the danger. Shepard saw him stop, inhale deeply. The air around him contorted as gravity rearranged itself with Alenko as a tether. The blue glow that enveloped his frame contorted violently, then erupted as he hurled it in the direction of the sniper. Shepard thought it would be too far, even for an L2 like Kaidan, but a moment later the geth in the tower rose struggling into the air. Alenko jerked his arms like he was delivering a body blow, and the geth went sailing into a rock. 

“Nice,” Shepard said into his comm. 

They crested the ridge swiftly and found an abandoned camp filled with old mining equipment. A trail of hoists, drills, bores and slushers littered ground amidst the entrance scaffolding that had been left in place, either due to oversight or the expense of removal. A few chains creaked in the wind. The door leading down into the mine itself had been forced open. 

Shepard raised his gun. “Williams, Tali. I need you to guard the entrance. Keep the geth out, and whatever’s in there in. Unless it’s us.”

“Yes, sir.” He thought he detected a note of resignation in Williams’ voice.

“Stay in contact with Garrus. If he can clear the canyon tell him to get his ass over here.” Shepard caught sight of Alenko’s face. “You all right?” Blood was dripping from his nose, with a couple of spatters sliding down the inside of his faceplate. 

Alenko straightened his shoulders. “Fine, Commander. I don’t normally try to fling them around from that far away. It’s nothing.” 

Wrex snorted. “Humans are soft.”

“I said it was nothing,” Alenko retorted. 

“Focus on the mission,” Shepard told them. “Let’s find Dr. T’Soni and get the hell out of here. I don’t know what they were assembling in that canyon, but I’d rather not be here long enough to find out.”

~

Liara had lost all sense of time. Had it been hours? Days? Weeks? She didn’t know. 

Her body ached. Her throat burned. The hunger pains she’d felt at first had retreated into dull emptiness. 

_I am going to die in here._

Despite the lead in her limbs and the exhaustion clouding her brain she stayed conscious. When she closed her eyes a dizzying torrent of thoughts took over. She saw the protheans – what she imagined them to look like, anyway – building their tower, then being swept away by rivers of lava. The protheans would climb to higher ground, looking for safety, but geth would reach out from the fires and pull them under as they screamed…

She had stopped trying to sleep. 

The geth, directed by a _krogan_ , had been trying to get to her. They’d been down in her makeshift camp, rooting through her things. So far they had failed. Before she had been glad. Now she almost hoped they would succeed, just to end it. 

She wished her mother was here. 

That she even thought about her mother was something of a surprise. She couldn’t remember the last time they spoke. Liara didn’t know why of all the people who might come to her aid, Benezia was the one she thought of first. 

_Because she’s your mother, and that used to mean something._

Ah Benezia, in her yellow gowns and that stupid headdress Liara had idolized so much as a child. How she had revered her mother when she was little! Wanted to be just like her. Until the protheans had swept her off her feet, awakening her passion for the past and desire to root out the secrets of a doomed race.

_You are my daughter. The future is our concern. Let the dead rest._

But Liara couldn’t. She insisted on looking backward while her mother looked forward. Instead of political galas and social soirees Liara preferred the dust and dirt of ancient artifacts. She preferred the dead to the living. 

And now she was far away from home, with no one here to save her from her own foolishness. Goddess, what if her mother had been right? 

She struggled weakly in the field. She hadn’t heard the geth in a while. Though she didn’t remember seeing them leave maybe they had. Given up and left her to starve to death. In the ultimate irony she would perish alongside the ghosts she had pursued so fruitlessly for so long. 

There had been a message from her mother, she remembered suddenly. That was why she was thinking of her. The first time either of them had made any effort to contact each other since she’d left the University to head out on her first dig. It had arrived in a batch right before she’d left for Therum, but its contents had been so cryptic she hadn’t known what to make of them. 

_Little Wing, we must speak. There are big things on the horizon for all of us. We need your help to find something. Something important. We believe that some of your research might point us to it. _

Liara hadn’t responded, and she wasn’t sure why. Something about the enigmatic “we” had made her uneasy, but in the end she’d been too busy to give it much thought. 

Her eyes welled up with tears. After all this time she had not even missed her mother, but now the thought that she had lost her chance to see her one last time brought on a deep swell of unexpected sorrow. 

_I’m sorry, mother. So sorry. I wish it could have been different. _

She drifted again, lost in thoughts of protheans and fire. Time ebbed and flowed without continuity. When she could block out the protheans she thought of her childhood, sitting on the veranda of her mother’s estate on Thessia, lazily swinging her feet as she poured through a history book instead of practicing her biotics in the courtyard like she’d been told. She could almost feel the sun on her face, smell the areinzas in bloom. Hear the clip of her mother’s shoes and the swish of her gown as she approached, scowl painted over her smooth, perfect face.

_You are more than this, Little Wing,_ her mother had scolded her. __

_But what if I’m not?_ she’d wanted to argue.

_I need your help to find something. something important. _

Wait. That wasn’t the right memory. 

Benezia spoke again, but this time instead of words there was the grind of rusted gears. Liara opened her eyes. The estate vanished, replaced by the swirling glow of her prison. 

The elevator was moving. Or trying. It creaked, squealed, then screeched to a halt. Her makeshift repairs had finally given out. It was the only way she knew to reach the surface. 

Gunfire. Was she imagining gunfire? There had been drones guarding her position, but she didn’t see them now. 

“Hello!” she croaked. “Is someone out there?” 

“Dr. T’Soni?”

There was someone standing in front of her. At first she had no idea what species, what gender…all she saw were blue eyes. _Shockingly_ blue, bluer than her own skin, burning with raw intensity that took her breath away. Behind those irises was a turbulent well so deep she thought it might not have a bottom. 

She shut her eyes and released a shaky breath. When she opened them again she saw that the blue eyes belonged to a man, human, flanked by two others. One, she realized with a sharp skewer of fear, was a krogan.

With a shudder she tried to focus in on the human’s face. Tune the rest out. If she couldn’t see the krogan, maybe he wasn’t there. 

The blue-eyed human sized her up for a moment, cradling his helmet in the crook of his arm. There was a small scar on the left side of his forehead that curved into his hairline. 

“Are you real?” she breathed. 

“Last time I checked,” he heard him say. The sound of his voice, so _real_ it was almost tangible, brought on a freshet of tears. This wasn’t in her head. She wasn’t imagining him.

“Thank the Goddess,” she choked out. “I did not think anyone would come looking for me.”

The human raised an eyebrow. “I think you’re about to find out that there are actually a _lot_ of people looking for you.” 

( _we_ _need your help to find something. something important)_

“Who are you?” she begged. 

“Commander Shepard,” he replied. “This is Lt. Alenko, and Urdnot Wrex. We’re here to help.” 

A sense of urgency overwhelmed her. “You’re not going to believe this, but there are geth here!”

“Oh, we believe it,” the one called Alenko muttered.

“Geth outside the Veil,” she wondered aloud. “What are they doing here?”

“Looking for you,” Shepard informed her.

Liara shut her eyes again, straining to move her hands. She wanted to rub her eyes. More than food, water and rest she wanted to rub her eyes…just to make sure that afterward he was still there. “Please. I’m trapped. I need your help.”

Desperation clawed at her. Her heart rate sped up and it became harder to breathe. Shepard’s voice cut through, calm and reassuring. “What can we do?” 

She forced her foggy brain to think. “You…have to find a way to lower the barrier. The geth have been down in my camp in the mine, trying to find a way to disable it. I don’t know if they’re still there.” Something else occurred to her. “Oh! There’s a krogan.” She forced back a giggle. “Two krogan. Imagine that!” 

“First thing’s first,” the krogan said. “Whose side are you on?” 

“This side,” she said, before realizing that probably wasn’t what he meant. “Wait. What?”

The Alenko human exhaled. “We’ve got to get her out of there, Commander. She’s exhausted. From the looks of it she needs fluids, food… ” 

“I noticed,” Shepard replied, his blue eyes never leaving Liara’s face. “The geth are here under the orders of a former Spectre named Saren,” he told her. “He’s gone rogue. Your mother is working with him.”

( _little_ _wing, we must speak)_

“I…I haven’t spoken to my mother in years. What do they want with me?”

“They’re looking for a prothean artifact.”

_( we need your help to find something. something important.) _

_Mother, what have you done?_

She struggled again. “Please help me,” she said, a terrified hitch entering her voice. “There is a control panel behind me that should deactivate the field, but you have to find some way past the barrier curtain to get to it.”

Shepard considered this for a moment, then nodded, as though it were as simple as opening a window. “Ok. Leave it to us.”

There was no reason to think it was as easy as he made it sound. She _knew_ it wasn’t as easy as he made it sound. But somehow she believed him. She wasn’t going to die in here. Shepard, whoever he was, would find a way. He would get her out. 

 

 


	13. De Medio Ignis

The geth were up to something. Ashley Williams stood in the sentry tower Alenko had cleared out on their way up, using the scope of her sniper rifle to try and catch sight of the stragglers still left in the canyon. The goddamn tin heads were smarter than they looked. Between their firefight and Garrus’ constant sniping they had identified the lines of sight and were now carefully avoiding them. 

“What the hell are they doing down there?” she muttered. 

“I don’t know,” Tali answered from the ground below, causing Ashley to startle, “but whatever it is must be more important than stopping us, and that can’t be good.” 

“Ok, so you hear through that hood better than I expected,” she said aloud, wanting to kick herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She heard the quarian shuffle below her. With a sigh she planted her eye against the scope once more. No one would argue tact was one of her strengths. 

“Garrus,” she hissed into the comm. “See anything?” 

_“Negative,”_ the turian replied, sounding almost bored. _“They’re out of sight for now. I count about six of them on radar, but none of them are making a move.”_

“Well that’s comforting,” she muttered. 

_“Relax, Chief. I can’t see them now, but there’s no way they can make it to your end of the canyon without coming into scope. Whatever they’ve got won’t get far.”_

“Easy for you to say,” she said softly to herself. She was putting her life in the hands of a turian. The irony of it was almost more than she could handle. If Sonsini had told her she would go from slumming it on a planetside garrison to fighting geth in what looked and smelled like the bowels of a volcano with nothing but a quarian and a turian for backup she would have laughed in his face. 

_What’s your deal with aliens_? Alenko had asked her. She’d wanted to scream back, _what’s yours?_ Humanity had been on the galactic scene for less than thirty years and was suddenly throwing their lot in with any alien species that knocked on their door, some of which had been perusing the galaxy while humanity had still been figuring out Sanskrit. Everyone seemed to believe that the asari, the salarians, even the turians, had their best interests at heart. 

Her ‘deal’ with aliens came down to not being able to figure out why humans were convinced they needed someone else’s help to balance on their own two feet. Cooperation was one thing. Cooperation was fine. But all of this ass kissing to land a seat on the Council was almost too much to take. If humanity wanted power so bad they should earn it on their own, not demand someone else give it to them. 

Everyone seemed to think naming Shepard to the Spectres was a win-win, including Shepard himself. The way Ashley saw it, the Council had merely found a convenient way to deal with more than one problem. Humanity would shut up for a while and take care of their Saren problem at the same time. If they succeeded, everyone got something out of the deal. If they didn’t, the Council had the perfect opportunity to tell humanity to take a seat and let the adults handle things. 

But no one was interested in the way she saw things. Her job was to kill the bad things and save the good things. She was good at the former, but the latter was still a pretty big hole in her resume. 

“How many more tech mines do we have?” she called down to Tali. 

“A few,” she replied, though some of the earnestness was gone from her voice. _Way to go, Williams. You made the new girl feel bad_. 

Ashley knocked some dirt off her boot against the wall of the sentry tower. She was back in her Phoenix armor. Funny how wearing it had seemed so exciting a few days ago. Now she desperately wished she had something – anything – else, even if it meant her old Predator suit. There was too much blood on this one. She’d blown Bourdelle’s head off in this suit, just not fast enough to save McIllheney. And he wasn’t the only one. She was pretty sure the husk that had killed Jenkins had once been Yvetz. Ashley had hated that fat fingered weapons specialist, but he hadn’t deserved to die that way. None of them had.

A rumble from down in the canyon snapped her back to attention. Tali reflexively drew her pistol. Ashley looked down her scope again. “Garrus? What’s going on?” 

There was a brief pause before his reply. 

_“Oh, shit.”_

~

Shepard found a staircase that would take them down a level to the camp Dr. T’Soni had described for them, hoping she’d been lucid enough to be right about the geth. The staircase was in no better shape than the elevator had been. He wasn’t sure whether T’Soni’s insistence on coming here alone was pure boldness or blatant naiveté. 

“Do you think she’s telling the truth?” Alenko asked.

The staircase creaked under their weight, but held. 

“About being trapped in a bubble she can’t get out of? Don’t see why she wouldn’t be.” Shepard could feel Alenko roll his eyes without needing to turn around. “If you mean the part about her not knowing why the geth want her, I’d say probably yes. I don’t think she’d voluntarily plant herself in that bubble just to throw us off her trail.” 

Wrex grunted. “Subterfuge. Coward’s way to fight.”

Shepard held up his hand to silence them, but there was no need. Their radars had all lit up. T’Soni had been right. The staircase led to an open cavern littered with mining equipment and a few crates with her supplies, all of which were now being carefully picked over by four geth. They had coopted some of her equipment and set up some of their own, apparently looking for a way to get past the barrier. Considering the asari’s current state they hadn’t had much luck. 

Standing just apart from the geth and looking quite bored was a krogan mercenary armed almost as well as Wrex. At the sight of them, the boredom vanished. 

“What the hell is this?” the krogan asked, leveling an interested stare at Wrex. 

Shepard didn’t see much point in mincing words. “We’re here for the asari.”

The krogan’s scaly lips curled in a reptilian sneer. “Good. That will at least make things more fun.”

Wrex inhaled deeply. Alenko’s hand was on his pistol, but Shepard blocked him with an arm. “I think we’ll let Wrex handle the krogan.” 

“I think that’s a great idea,” Alenko replied.

~

Something _unfolded_ in the canyon, rising above the obscuring rocks with slow, deliberate exertion. The watery light that had managed to penetrate the sulfuric clouds hovering above them glinted off something metal. 

“Keelah, it’s a geth!” Tali cried. 

Ashley stared. Down in the canyon she could see a now-familiar orb of blue light gleamed from a metal cowl that was distinctly geth, but that was the only thing it had in common with the other bipeds they’d fought so far. Its head was anchored to a compact body by a long, trunk-like neck covered with heavily armored plates. The machine’s bulk was supported on four jointed legs that reminded her of a spider. Her hardsuit calculated its height at about four meters. 

Its flashlight face swung towards them, legs torqueing to accommodate it with uncanny agility. That blue light was searching for them. No, _targeting._ It wasn’t just a pretty flashlight.

“Is that a cannon?” Ashley asked, unable to keep the dread out of her voice. 

She didn’t have to wait for an answer. The blue light contorted, then released a siege pulse that struck the tower with shattering force just as she dove off. Ashley hit the ground with a thud. The air vacated her lungs as she rolled, shielding herself from chunks of falling debris with one arm. Her hardsuit alarms whined in protest as slag refracted off her shields with a hiss. _Breach,_ she thought numbly when she saw the red indicator in her HUD _. There’s a breach in my hardsuit_.

Someone – Tali –grabbed her arm and dragged her towards the rocks. 

“ _Oh yeah, that’s a cannon,”_ Garrus quipped. _“Chief, you all right?”_ __

Ashley gasped, trying to suck air back into her lungs. 

“I’ve got her,” Tali said, breathlessly. “She’s ok.”

The crack of Garrus’ sniper rifle reverberated through the canyon. Ashley didn’t need to see to know a slug from an Equilizer was going to bother that beast about as much as kicking it in the shin. She tried to sit up but Tali forced her back down. “Hang on, Chief. I need to seal the breach.”

Ashley glanced down. Blood spattered her hardsuit along her abdomen. She must have rolled over some shrapnel when she hit the ground. _I don’t even feel it_. 

Tali pulled a dose of medigel out a medkit and injected it through the breach. The slimy salve oozed under the fabric inner layer and spread across her skin, hardening swiftly to form a cold, tight seal. Ashley gritted her teeth. 

“Hold still,” Tali told her. The waver was completely gone from her voice, as though she’d done this a thousand times before. It was almost reassuring enough to take the sting out of being rescued by a quarian, a species that could be die just by breathing unfiltered air. 

Once the medigel had set Tali manufactured a suit patch with her omnitool and fitted it carefully to the breach. It clamped down with a soft snick. The hardsuit alarms ceased. 

“Williams to _Normandy_ ,” Ashley wheezed, still trying to catch her breath. 

Joker’s reply was immediate. “ _Right here, Chief.”_

“We’ve got a giant geth down here with a face made out of mass accelerator cannon. A little help?”

“ _I’ll see what I can do, but the ground is awfully unstable down there. You know. Lava? We try to go after it and we might end up bringing you down with it.”_

“It’s gonna be a moot point in just a minute,” she warned. Tali helped her to her feet. With a wince she reached over her shoulder for her assault rifle, thankful it was still there. Her sniper was buried somewhere under the remnants of the tower. 

Tali touched her arm. “Wait. There are still geth in the valley.” 

“Not for long.”

“No!” Tali said, tightening her grip. “We need them. I have a plan. Garrus, are you willing to provide a distraction?” 

_“One I could live through would be great.”_

“I need you to draw its fire.” 

_“I think you missed the part where I wanted to live.”_

“Trust me.” __

To Ashley’s astonishment, he did. 

~

Shepard had seen Alenko deploy his barrier before. It was the work of a simple mnemonic to create a biotic field he shaped like clay to fit snug over his skin, a hard-earned skill that Alenko made look easy. But with Wrex, it was like watching a wrestling match between the krogan and gravity itself – and Wrex _won._ His entire body seethed with barely constrained blue flame that appeared to be just looking for a whiff of oxygen to erupt into a firestorm. It was a terrifying sight. 

The other krogan, however, was not impressed. He had drawn a shotgun that was similar in make and model to the one Wrex held and had it ready. 

The gun barked. In a surprisingly fluid motion Wrex rolled to the side, dodging the blast. He came up frighteningly fast for a creature his size, flinging a sphere of biotic energy. The krogan managed to evade it – barely – and the sphere hit the wall with a dull boom, lighting up the rocks with a blue crackle. But Wrex hadn’t waited to see if the biotics would connect. The moment he hit his feet he became a massive projectile, barreling at his enemy with a roar. 

They collided, Wrex bulling his head right into the krogan’s sternum. The other krogan somehow still had his shotgun up. Wrex’s barrier flashed an angry, turbid blue as a slug slammed into his chest. He backhanded the krogan’s unprotected face with enough force to break an ordinary person’s neck. As the krogan toppled back Wrex seized the shotgun, yanked down on the barrel and drove the butt of it into his enemy’s chin.

The other krogan reeled, but snarled and kept his feet. With a blind bellow of rage he rammed into Wrex’s shoulder, spinning him off balance. Wrex responded by drawing back his arm and letting loose with his fist, but what started as an open-handed punch ended with a powerful biotic discharge. This time he didn’t miss. 

It was a warp field – a well of rapidly shifting mass effect fields that ripped its target apart on a molecular level. The krogan screamed in pain. Wrex took advantage of the krogan’s sudden helplessness to pull out his own shotgun and empty two rounds into the krogan’s face. 

A geth that had been approaching Wrex from behind dropped under a barrage from Shepard’s assault rifle. Alenko took the shields down of another with an overload mine, which made it easy work for Shepard. The three of them turned their guns on the remaining two, bringing them down just as easily. These units had not been nearly as combat ready as the ones outside. 

When it was over a thin haze of dust mingled with coppery tang of blood and scorched metal. One of T’Soni’s crates was now pocked with bullet holes. 

“Wrex,” Alenko said, observing what was left of the other krogan. “I think you’ve just made not pissing you off one of my life goals.” 

The krogan grunted, but Shepard thought he’d taken it as a compliment. 

“Now how do we take down that field?” Alenko asked. 

Shepard approached one of the terminals the geth had set up. “Doesn’t look like they were having much luck hacking their way through,” he said. “Can you make anything of it?” 

Alenko scoured the data. “Maybe,” he said, “but it’ll take a while. Doesn’t look like they were going to succeed anytime soon.”

“Not sure how much time we have,” Shepard said. They needed to get T’Soni out soon, for her own sake and before reinforcements arrived. He looked around the cavern, pausing at the sight of a mining laser. “Think that still works?”

Alenko swiveled his head to look at the barrier, then back at Shepard. “You want to drill through the bubble? Pretty sure that won’t end well for the doctor.”

Now it was Shepard’s turn to roll his eyes. “The barrier is only active on her level. We just need to get to the other side of it. If we can’t get through, why not go under?” He glanced back in the direction they’d come from. On this level the prothean tower was still entombed in rock, but unless its layout changed at the bottom, presumably behind that rock was just another compartment. One that wasn’t blocked by a curtain.

Wrex followed his gaze. “Now you’re thinking like a krogan.”

Shepard approached the laser, hoping it still worked. To his relief it kicked to life after two false starts. Carefully he aimed the beam at the wall, hoping that he wasn’t going to bring the whole damn tower down. “Keep your fingers crossed,” he said, then activated the laser. 

The refined beam lanced the rock with a high pitched whine, kicking up a swirl of dust and debris. He eased off. The power output was higher than he anticipated, but it appeared to be working. Within moments enough rock had sheared away to clear a sloping path into the next level of the tower. No curtain in sight. So long as they could get back _up_ to her level from inside the core, they might just pull it off.

He glanced smugly at Alenko as he jumped down from the laser. 

The cavern rumbled.

_Shit_. 

“I suppose now is too late to wonder how stable all of this is,” Alenko said.

Shepard brushed past them towards the newly created path. “Come on. Let’s get her and get out of here.” 

They hurried through the tunnel and into the tower core, where the platform elevator that Dr. T’Soni had discovered but not been able to access was waiting for them. If it worked, they could take it all the way up to the upper level and use the mine tunnels to get out.

Fortunately T’Soni had done a good job of restoring power, and protheans had built things to last. The platform shook grudgingly to life as another rumble shook more debris loose from the rock.

_Faster_.

The asari nearly cried with relief when they appeared behind her. “Thank the Goddess,” she said. “I really did not think anyone could get in here. Please – that panel over there should shut down the containment field.”

Shepard found the panel she was talking about. His fingers hovered over the interface, looking for something that might disengage the field. Hesitantly he tapped a few keys. The field vanished, dumping Dr. T’Soni unceremoniously to the ground. Shepard hurried to her side, taking her by the arm and helping her to her feet. She gasped, wobbled, and fell into his chest, instinctively gripping his waist to keep from falling. Shepard seized hold of her with both arms. This close he was acutely aware of the panicked rise and fall of her chest. Even through his hardsuit he could tell she was cold, shivering, and running on sheer adrenaline. If he’d had any doubts she was lying about her allegiances they were gone now. This woman was well and truly frightened. 

“Thank you,” she said softly, resting her forehead briefly against his chestplate with an exhausted sigh.

The ground rumbled again, more violently this time. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” Shepard said. “We still have to get out of here before the whole place comes down. Will that platform take us back up to the surface?”

“I think so,” she replied. 

“Can you walk?”

She nodded. Shepard wasn’t sure he believed her, but he had to hope whatever reserves she had left were enough to get them back to the surface. He helped her towards the platform. The cavern trembled, then rolled under their feet. T’Soni lost her balance and Shepard reached out to grab her again. 

His suit alerted him the air temperature was climbing steadily.There was a magma pocket nearby that the mining laser had apparently destabilized. So even if the cavern didn’t collapse Shepard was guessing it wouldn’t be long before they would be taking a swim in lava. 

“Joker,” he said into his comm, hoping like hell they could read him down here under all this rock. “Lock onto my signal and get the _Normandy_ inbound. We have to get out of here, now!” 

“ _On our way, Commander, but it might be a little complicated. Williams and her team have their hands full with a little problem on the surface.”_

“Whatever the problem is, solve it! This whole place is coming down on our heads.”

_“Understood.”_

“If we die in here,” Wrex growled, “I’ll kill him.”

T’Soni activated the platform, which began a slow rise to the surface. The walls of the tower groaned in protest. 

“Williams! Get ready for an evac. We’re getting out of here.”

_“Yes, sir,”_ she replied, sounding breathless but thoroughly pleased. 

“Everything all right up there?” he asked. “Joker said you had some problems.” 

“ _Had, yeah._ _We’re problem solvers, Skipper.”_

Shepard smiled, in spite of himself. “Good.” 

The platform shuddered to a stop, depositing them on a series of ramps that led back to the surface access tunnel. Some had already been jarred loose or even collapsed. “Time to make a run for it!” Shepard said. 

The cavern seized once again, harder and stronger this time. Debris shook loose from above them, raining down haphazardly amid the dust. The four of them barreled towards the tunnels, which Shepard prayed were still intact. He kept T’Soni firmly ahead of him in case she stumbled, amazed she could run at all.

“Go!” Shepard yelled, gesturing wildly with his arm .

They reached the tunnels and bolted for the surface, where the _Normandy_ was ready and waiting, Williams and Tali already aboard. Behind them the ground heaved, taking the tunnels with them and what was left of the ruins. A magma vent exploded near the entrance to the mine, sending a molten river coursing towards the very place they had been standing just moments ago. 

As soon as Shepard’s feet hit the _Normandy’s_ deck plates he peeled off his helmet and let it clatter to the floor. “Let’s pick up Garrus and get the hell off this rock,” he said into his comm.

_“Aye,”_ Joker agreed. 

T’Soni stood with her hands on her knees, breathing heavily and swaying on her feet. Shepard took her by the shoulders and guided her to a storage crate, where she sat down gratefully and put her head in her hands. 

Wind whipped through the cargo bay door as the _Normandy_ skimmed across the canyon. Below Shepard saw a smoking metallic ruin amidst the rock formations. He glanced at Tali and Williams. “Your handiwork?”

Williams nodded to Tali. “Her idea. I just provided the cover fire.” 

Wrex ambled to the ramp when they reached Garrus and reached out to catch him by the talons as he leaped onboard. Shepard wished he could see the turian’s expression under the helmet. No doubt there was some part of him that thought Wrex might just throw him off rather than help him up. 

Once they were in the cargo door slid closed. Garrus pulled his helmet off and exhaled in relief. 

“They have armatures,” Tali exclaimed. “Too big to take down conventionally without our own cannon.” She glanced at the Mako looming to their right. 

“So what did you do?” Alenko asked, cradling his helmet in his arm and wiping the now-dried blood off his nose. 

Tali straightened her shoulders proudly. “I identified some lower level geth processes with weaker firewalls than the primary systems. I hacked my way in and temporarily reprogrammed them to fire on their own armature!” 

“You can do that?” Shepard asked. 

“Well, I wasn’t sure until we tried it.”

Shepard grinned, amazed. “Nice work.” 

“Do I get any credit for deliberately drawing the fire of a geth cannon and living to tell about it?” Garrus asked lightly. 

“If you have to ask, then no,” Wrex replied. 

Garrus flicked a mandible, but said nothing. 

“Everyone ok?” Shepard asked. 

“Chief Williams needs to be checked out by Dr. Chakwas,” Tali spoke up. “She took some shrapnel.”

“It’s fine,” Williams insisted, wrapping her arms around her stomach. “No biggie.” 

Shepard tilted his head towards the elevator. “Med bay. Go.” 

She sighed, but trudged towards the elevator. 

“You too,” he said to T’Soni. “We need to get you checked out.” Gently he eased her to her feet, standing close in case she wavered. “Everyone meet in the comm room in an hour for a debrief,” Shepard ordered.

There was a chorus of acknowledgements. Shepard gripped the asari’s wrist and ducked his head under her arm so it looped around his shoulders. Gingerly he slid his other arm around her waist. Once he was sure she wasn’t going to fall they followed Williams to the elevator. T’Soni tried to protest his assistance, but when she was too exhausted to do more than murmur something about getting there on her own Shepard refused to let go. 

“Going to be hard to find it yourself when you don’t know where it is,” he pointed out to her. 

“Mmm,” she replied. 

When the three of them reached the elevator Williams smacked the wall switch to take them to the crew deck. She eyed the asari suspiciously. 

“Where’d you get hit?” Shepard asked her. 

The chief rubbed her abdomen, where he could see a field patch. A good one, too, presumably the work of their new resident quarian. Shepard felt a flush of satisfaction. Udina had objected strongly to bringing her along, but already she’d proven to be more valuable than even Shepard had suspected. She’d hacked a _geth._ On a spur of the moment whim.

After a near eternity the elevator doors finally slid open on the crew deck. A few crew members looked on in surprise at the sight of the asari. Shepard stepped out of the elevator, but T’Soni tottered and sagged against him. Without a second thought he slid one arm under her shoulders, hooked the other around the back of her knees and lifted her easily off the ground. He got one more small murmur of protest before carrying her the rest of the way to the med clinic. _Welcome to the_ Normandy _, Liara T’Soni._

 

 


	14. Colesco

When Liara opened her eyes she had no idea where she was. In a panic she tried to sit up. A strong hand met her shoulder and gently pressed her back down. 

“Easy,” a voice said. 

She turned her head and saw a pair of sharp, blue eyes. 

_It was real_ , she thought, heart racing. _He was real. I’m safe._

She blinked a few times. The room was dim, the air strong with the mingled scent of astringent and disinfectant. She was in a med clinic. Somewhere in the fog of her brain she remembered running, leaping… _Ship. I’m on a ship._ The human commander – Shepard – was seated next to her. 

“How do you feel?” he asked. 

She closed her eyes and smiled, putting a hand to her forehead. “Alive,” she said. 

“Well…that’s a start,” Shepard replied.

She lowered her hand and looked over at him. His expression was relaxed but tired, with dark circles resting heavily under his eyes. One arm was draped in his lap, the other propped on a small table to the left of her bed. He’d exchanged his armor for what looked like military issue clothing. The sleeves went only as far as the middle of his upper arm, and in the focused light of the medical lamp above her bed she saw hundreds of subtle, tiny hairs dotting his skin. 

He angled his head slightly, wondering what she was looking at. There was something so patient, kind about his expression. She flushed. Stuttered a little.

“I…didn’t think I was going to get out of there. Thank you.”

Shepard rubbed the back of his neck. “According to Dr. Chakwas you were pretty dehydrated. Exhausted. Sorry we couldn’t get to you sooner.”

She shuddered at the memory of the barrier curtain, wrapping her arms protectively around herself. Never again would she take for granted the use of all her limbs.

“Can I get you anything?” Shepard asked. “Dr. Chakwas stepped out for a few minutes to get something to eat. If I neglect her patient she’ll throw me out an airlock.” 

Liara smiled in spite of herself. She was thirsty, hungry, even still a little tired, but all of it paled in the face of her curiosity. “I’m ok,” she said. “What I’d really like is…” she hesitated, looking anywhere but Shepard’s face. That poised, unwavering gaze made it hard to organize her still muddled thoughts. Shepard said nothing, merely waited for her to collect herself. 

“I still don’t understand,” she said finally. “How is my mother involved in all of this? Why did they want me?”

He rested his head against his fingertips. “I was hoping you could tell me that. There’s a lot we still don’t know.”

“We need your help to find something,” Liara murmured to herself. “Something important.”

“What?”Shepard picked his head up.

Liara shook her head, embarrassed she’d spoken aloud. “I’m sorry. My mother and I haven’t spoken for years. But right before I left for Therum she sent me a message. It said she was looking for something she thought I could help her find, but it didn’t say what.” 

“The conduit,” Shepard replied. 

Conduit. Her mind raced. The prothean archives on Thessia. Liara remembered it from one of her first papers about prothean extinction. It had been a reference she’d found that the archive referred to it as a ‘conduit to salvation,’ if the translation was correct. Liara had been beside herself, thinking she’d found the answer, the key to the protheans’ fate. But she had never been able to find the right context for it, and even more frustrating she hadn’t been able to determine the data’s origin. The asari collection of prothean data was vast, assembled from caches discovered across the galaxy over the course of centuries. Apparently some of the older record keeping left something to be desired. 

After her theory had been laughed at by enough people she had more or less moved on, forgetting about the conduit altogether. Whatever it was, if it was anything at all, had not come up again anywhere else. 

Had her mother, in some great irony, discovered something that she herself had not?

“Do you know what it is?” Shepard prodded. 

She shook her head, explained about the paper. “It was nothing. A silly theory. No one ever took me seriously.”

Shepard tilted his head slightly. “Maybe not so silly as you think.”

“Benezia must have found that paper,” she said with a frown. “She probably thinks I know more. But I’m sorry to say that I don’t. Why would she want it? What does she and…” she thought quickly, trying to remember the name Shepard had said, “…Saren want with the protheans?”

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together. “You’re an expert on the prothean extinction, correct?”

“Yes,” she replied, turning her gaze to him with a measure of pride. 

“What do you think happened?”

A thrill ran through her and she sat up a little in the bed. This time he didn’t stop her. She could count on one hand the number of times someone had flat out asked her, though she’d done everything but shout from the rooftops for nearly two decades. 

“The popular theory right now is that they did something to themselves,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth almost faster than she could keep up. “Some self-inflicted galactic catastrophe. But I don’t believe that. Something else was responsible. Something beyond anything they had encountered before. But that’s not all! I’ve been researching the protheans for over fifty years, and while I still don’t understand the method of their extinction–” 

Shepard held up a hand. “Whoa, whoa. Hang on. Fifty years? How old are you?” 

Liara flushed again. “I’m only one hundred and six. Too young for most people to take seriously but I assure you–”

He chuckled softly. “Sorry, doctor. It’s just…humans have a little different perception than asari when it comes to age.”

“Of course,” she said, covering her eyes in embarrassment. “I’m such an idiot. I didn’t think about–”

“Hey,” he said. She felt his hand close over hers, gently pull it away from her face. Against the chill of the med bay his touch was surprisingly warm. “Relax. It’s ok. I didn’t mean anything by it. You just…definitely don’t look anything like my idea of a hundred years old.”

If she’d been flushed before, her skin was positively violet now. “Please. Call me Liara.”

He leaned back again, smiling. “Ok. Liara. Sorry I interrupted.”

“Um.”

“You were saying something about their extinction?” 

“Right! Um. I think…I don’t know what killed them, exactly. But whatever it was, I don’t think the protheans were the first.” 

The smile vanished abruptly from Shepard’s face, and she could have sworn his tawny skin turned nearly ashen right before her eyes. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What do you mean?” 

“I think,” she said, choosing her words carefully now, afraid of their effect, “that there were other cultures before them. Galaxy spanning, spacefaring cultures. All rising to a similar level of prominence as the protheans, all systematically wiped out. A cycle of extinction, if you will.”

He said nothing for a long time. She shifted on the bed, anxiously wondering what was running through his head. 

“What makes you think this?” he said at last. 

She shrugged. “Little things. I’ve been studying the protheans for a long time. There are certain pieces of the puzzle I’ve found that don’t fit – like they belong to someone else’s puzzle! I can’t prove it. But I’m certain I’m right.” _And the implications have made for more than a couple sleepless nights,_ she added silently. 

Shepard’s gaze wandered, and the weariness that she’s noticed earlier seemed more pronounced. His shoulders slumped, his eyes, so vibrant before, had a duller sheen. “You’re more right than you know,” he murmured. 

A cold chill glazed her spine, and she shivered. “What do you mean?” 

That’s when he told her about the beacon. Saren. _Benezia._

The reapers.

Liara’s mind buzzed. It was too much to take in. Dizziness struck and the edges of her vision grew black. She felt his hands against her shoulders again, easing her back down. “Time to rest,” he said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have thrown all that at you. I’ll get Dr. Chakwas and leave you be for a while.”

For a moment she wanted to reach out and grab him by the arm. _No, please stay with me_. He was a stranger, but on a ship full of strangers her only friend, and in the wake of what she’d just learned the thought of being alone was more terrifying than being back in that bubble on Therum. 

She heard the doors slide open. The sound of a female voice. A demure woman with silver hairand cool hands pressed a dermal injector against her neck. There was a nip against her skin followed by a hiss as the contents of the injector flooded her body. Her muscles, coiled tight as a spring, begin to slowly unwind. She fought the onrush of sleep, trying to focus on Shepard. Her entire world had just been turned upside down and he was the only link. Once he walked out the door she was afraid he’d be lost. Or she would be. 

_(We need your help to find something. Something important.)_

_Mother, why?_

She slept. 

~

Shepard sat at the long table in the mess, idly stirring another cup of coffee, thoughts still dwelling on the asari in the med bay. _I shouldn’t have dumped all that on her. Not all at once. Not in her state._ She was a civilian and he’d treated her like a soldier, interrogating her right there in her hospital bed.

He flicked at a crumb on the tabletop. It was getting late. Third shift was tumbling out of the sleeper pods and getting ready to take over their duty stations. There was an excited buzz as they gossiped in low voices about what had transpired on Therum.

Alenko was tinkering in the galley, stirring something in a saucepan. Private Greico had already complained about the Lieutenant’s after hours kitchen raids. Shepard had told him it was par for the course with a biotic on board, and to just get used to it. Shepard had learned firsthand that Alenko could out eat a krogan after a demanding biotic display. 

When he was finished he dumped the contents of the skillet into a bowl and headed for the table. The smell of garlic reached Shepard before Alenko did, and his stomach rumbled. He didn’t know the last time he’d eaten. 

Another of the biotic’s weird talents was that he was a surprisingly good cook, and about the only person Shepard knew who could make reconstituted rations take like real food. When Alenko took a seat Shepard reached out and snatched his fork.

“By all means, help yourself,” Alenko said dryly.

“Mmpf,” Shepard replied. It was pasta, with a tomato based sauce that actually tasted like tomatoes. “Going to fire the cook and put you in charge. Hope you know that.” He offered Kaidan back the fork. The LT waved him off, then pointedly held up a second one. Shepard saw it as an invitation to go for a second bite, and did. It only occurred to Shepard later that Kaidan might have fixed it just to ensure his commander ate. 

Kaidan prodded the bowl with his backup fork. “Joker says your first call from the Council went, uh, well.”

“Figured he was listening,” Shepard said, getting to his feet and heading to the mess counter in search of something to drink. “Yeah, they weren’t…thrilled that I destroyed the ruins and brought the daughter of our enemy on board.” He came back with two bottles of water, which he held outward in an elaborate shrug. “You know me. I leave a trail of destruction everywhere I go.” He set one of the bottles down in front of Kaidan and reclaimed his seat. “Udina thinks I’m turning the _Normandy_ into a safari tour.”

“I’d like to see how we get off Therum without them,” Kaidan said, twirling a wad of paste onto his fork.

Shepard shook his head. “You really don’t care that I packed this ship with aliens, do you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Should I?”

“No…”

“But you think I would, because of BAaTT.”

Shepard toyed with a napkin. “You never said what happened and I didn’t ask. But from the sounds of it, whatshisname – ”

“Vyrnnus,” Kaidan supplied, focusing intently on his pasta bowl. 

“Right. I don’t get the sense he gave a great first impression of the turians.”

He shrugged. “He was just one turian.”

Shepard recalled their conversation in Flux. “Jerks and saints, huh?”

“Jerks and saints,” Kaidan affirmed. “Brain Camp was full of them.” 

“What the hell is Brain Camp?”

They both turned to see Joker hobbling towards them. Shepard nudged a chair out for him with his foot. 

“Biotic Acclimation and Temperance Training,” Kaidan said as Joker lowered himself into the chair with a grimace. The braces on his legs creaked as he twisted around to lean his crutches against the wall behind them. “BAaTT.”

“How clever,” Joker demured. “That where they teach you to work the bad guy like a puppet on a string before ripping their face off with your mind?” 

“Not sure I’ve heard it put quite so eloquently before.”

“Getcha something?” Shepard offered. 

“I brought cards,” Joker said bluntly, digging a beat up deck out of his pocket and tossing it on the table. “Pressly, Adams and Williams are on their way.” 

Shepard leaned back in his chair. “I’m impressed, Joker. You’re seeking out our company?” 

“Screw your company. I’m after your credits. And it was Alenko’s idea.” 

Kaidan chuckled. “You know gambling’s against regs, right?” 

Joker scoffed. “You said bring cards. I don’t play for imaginary riches. Shepard’s a Spectre now. I see that as a free pass. Let it rain.”

Shepard turned a questioning glance to Kaidan, who shrugged. “Thought playing a few hands would be a good way to blow off steam.”

Adams and Pressly showed up a few moments later, deep in conversation about propulsion maintenance. Adams paused by the table while Pressly kept going over to the galley, where he rummaged through cabinets until he found a bottle of whisky and brought it back to the table. Adams stretched his arms above his head and rolled his neck until something popped, then sat with a grateful sigh.

“Long day?” Shepard asked. 

“Twelve hours on my feet implementing the performance upgrades Tali came up with.” He shook his head. “She’s one hell of an engineer, Commander.” 

“Tell me about it,” Shepard replied, thinking of the smoking ruin on Therum. 

Kaidan picked up the deck and casually began to shuffle the cards. Shepard smirked to himself. Joker had bought Kaidan’s innocent “let’s blow off steam” excuse, but Shepard knew better. He was willing to bet every single person at this table would peg Kaidan for a sucker, and every single one of them would owe him by the end of the night. 

Adams looked around. “Anyone seen Karin?”

Joker made a face. “Who the hell is Karin?”

“Dr. _Chakwas_.”

“She has a first name? Hey, you do learn something new every day.”

“She’s still with Liara,” Kaidan said. “Came to get something to eat a little while ago.”

Williams appeared from behind the elevator bulkhead. Shepard saw smudges of grease on her hands and guessed she’d been down in the armory cleaning rifles. He made a mental note to put in a requisition order for a new sniper. Apparently hers was still on Therum, buried somewhere under a pile of rubble. 

“Sit down, Chief,” Joker called with a lazy wave. “Or find us some chips. The kind you eat, not the kind you win from Kaidan.” 

Kaidan said nothing, and Shepard coughed to hide his laughter. 

Ashley sat without a word, eying the cards while looking inexplicably uncomfortable. Her eyes kept darting around as though she expected something to explode. Shepard watched her out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing. “What’s the game?” she asked.

“Whatever everyone wants,” Kaidan said amiably. Because it didn’t _matter._ Biotic bastard.

“Not Skyllian Five,” she said quickly. 

“Why not?” Pressly asked. 

She grimaced, fingers drumming nervously on the table. “How about five card draw?”

“You got it, Chief,” Alenko said easily, and began to deal. A flick of his eyes back in William’s direction told Shepard he’d picked up on her discomfort, too, but at the slightest shake of Shepard’s head he kept his mouth shut. 

Pressly passed the glasses around, then scooped up his hand and scrutinized it carefully.“Any word from our intrepid prothean scientist?”

Shepard’s thoughts flew from Ashley back to Liara T’Soni, and he nearly knocked over his glass. “Spoke to her a little while ago,” he managed. “Dr. Chakwas still has her on R&R, but she looks a lot better than she did when we found her.” He felt another stab of guilt. 

“I love that we’re just totally ok with the daughter of Saren’s bosom buddy slumming it here on the ship,” Ashley said, glaring at her cards as though they had personally insulted her. 

“ _Bosom_ buddy?” Joker said with a snort. “Really?”

“Have you seen what she looks like?” Ashley demanded. “I think the term’s appropriate.” 

“Dr. T’Soni is a guest on this ship,” Shepard said, quietly but in a tone that left no room for argument. “Everyone will treat her as such. I’m getting enough blowback from the Council. Don’t need it from any of you.” He raised his eyes from his cards just long enough to make sure no one objected. No one did. 

“Next time the Council gives you shit, just say the word and I’ll conveniently drop the signal,” Joker said.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

They played the hand, resulting in a surprise victory by Adams. Shepard caught Kaidan’s eye, but the lieutenant’s expression was purposefully blank. 

Pressly dealt next. Ashley held her cards like pieces of broken glass. Shepard kept his eyes on his hand – Pressly had given him nothing – but kept watch on the gunnery chief. She was otherwise doing a good job of masking her discomfort, but Shepard had been there too many times before to be fooled. 

Adams was grinning in response to some remark from Pressly. “The geth never knew we were there,” Adams said, the combination of the whiskey and the hard-won pile of credits before him making him almost gleeful. “The IES worked perfectly. Drop ship sitting right there in orbit, never _even_ saw us.  Same on Eden Prime!”

Ashley flinched ever so slightly, but only Shepard saw.

“Sorry,” Joker droned, tossing a card on the table. “I was way more impressed by the pilot who literally dragged his commanding officer out of a river of _lava_.”

“Didn’t see you down there taking fire from a geth armature,” Ashley fired back. “In fact as I recall, when I called for help you turned me down.” 

Joker rolled his eyes. “Did I mention the lava? You know that’s bad for hulls, right? Lava? But don’t worry. You’ve got me. And the _Normandy_ is a beautiful young lady with the sexiest drive core in the fleet.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Pressly said, holding up an empty glass and looking pointedly at the bottle sitting in front of Joker. Joker took a swig from it and passed it on, much to Pressly’s distaste. “Does Vrolik’s syndrome excuse you from drinking out of a glass?” 

Joker merely grinned. Pressly poured anyway. 

Shepard won the second hand, but by that time Kaidan had finished scouting and was now on the hunt. He reined in his bet. 

“So what’s next, Commander?” Pressly asked. 

“Still waiting for a lead,” Shepard replied. “Hopefully Liara can help us track down Benezia. Until then Admiral Hackett has a few things he’d like us to investigate.”

Kaidan whistled. “Admiral Hackett? Wow, sign on with a Spectre and suddenly you’re dealing with top brass. What does he need?” 

“Something about a missing probe that turned up in the Voyager Cluster,” Shepard mused, picking up the next hand and fanning the cards. “It’s classified, sensitive. Wants us to go get it.”

“He wants a Spectre to fetch a probe?” Joker asked. “Sounds like a waste of time.” 

Shepard agreed, but had a feeling it wasn’t. He thought back to his last conversation with Anderson. _Do you know how many commanders Admiral Hackett keeps tabs on? One. You._

The third hand went to Kaidan, then the fourth. By the fifth the others were catching on. 

“Where the hell did you learn how to play poker?” Pressly demanded. 

“Jump Zero,” Kaidan replied. “When you and a bunch of kids are herded out to the middle of nowhere with no extranet and too much time on your hands, you find ways to amuse yourselves.”

“I can think of a lot better ways than _cards_ ,” Joker said. 

Shepard smiled, his eyes on his hand but his mind beginning to drift. The sheer pleasantness of being surrounded by people having a good time was a welcome diversion from the past few days. Funny how you didn’t realize how much stress you were under until you found a seam to let some of it out. He listened to the others laugh. Earlier in the night it had been cautious, but now had become heartfelt and open. 

It made him feel a little bad for how he was about to end the evening.

“Too bad Dr. Chakwas isn’t here,” Adams said regretfully. “She would have enjoyed this.” 

Shepard laid down his cards. “Anyone mention this to Garrus or Tali? Wrex?”

He was, not unexpectedly, met with immediate, uncomfortable silence.

Shepard met their downcast eyes, then stood. He’d gotten the point across. No need to push it any further. “Thanks for the games, everyone. Feel free to keep playing. We’ll do it again soon.”

He left quickly to end their embarrassment. Part of him regretted doing it to them in the first place, but in the long run he thought it would help. If they were going to act like a team, they needed to think like one. Therum had been a successful experiment, but there would be tougher, longer roads ahead. 

~

A few hours later the _Normandy_ was firmly entrenched in third shift and Ashley shuffled back down to the cargo hold, unable to sleep and not sure what to do with herself. She looked at the rack of clean rifles on the weapons bench beside the lockers, careful to avoid the crate with Jenkin’s belongings in it. The _Normandy_ hadn’t left it off at the Citadel like she expected, making her wonder if they had other plans or had just plain forgotten about it. 

A loud snore nearly sent her leaping out of her own skin. She’d nearly forgotten about the krogan bunking down here. Apparently he didn’t have trouble sleeping. 

She splayed her hands on the weapon’s bench, sighing a little. Well. She could always clean the shotguns. Clean guns were something she took a lot of pride in. 

Back in Basic she’d told her drill instructor once that her gun was clean enough to eat off of, so he’d promptly made her prove it. She’d hadn’t hesitated to do exactly that, then spent the next hour cleaning it again. But instead of grabbing a shotgun she sank down in front of the lockers and put her head in her hands. That stupid card game. Why the hell did it matter at all? How did something like poker suddenly make her feel like the air was too heavy to even get a deep breath? 

She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes and just sat in silence, until she heard the clunk of someone settling down inelegantly next to her. This time she didn’t jump though. She’d almost been expecting it. Bright spots danced in front of her eyes when she took away her hands. As she suspected, Shepard was seated next to her, staring sagely over at the Mako with his knees propped up in front of him. 

“I cannot wait to use that thing,” Shepard said. 

Of all the things she’d expected him to say, that was not it. She raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve driven Grizzlies,” Shepard went on. “But this thing is lighter, faster, and if the specs are right it’ll take one hell of a beating and still get the job done. I’m going to make it dance.”

“I thought you don’t dance.” 

“I make an exception for tanks.” 

Ashley smiled a little. Alenko had mentioned something about Shepard’s driving skill, or lack thereof, but for once the trap door between her brain and her mouth stayed shut. 

“You were playing Skyllian Five when the dreadnaught showed up, weren’t you?” Shepard said after a comfortable silence. 

She felt her breath catch in her throat. Saw the thing that wasn’t Bourdelle shambling towards her with its groping fingers. Remembered the hardsuit transponders on her scanner winking out one by one.

She nodded, staring down at the neon green laces of the boots she’d bought on the Citadel.

“For me it was oatmeal,” Shepard went on, his tone remaining conversational. “The last thing I ate before Torfan was a bowl of oatmeal, and to this day if I so much as smell it I’m back in some cave with a Batarian gauntlet coming at my face.” He shifted his back against the lockers, searching for a comfortable spot. “Don’t know why, but it seems like food is what always triggers memories like that for me. Ruins a lot of good meals.”

Ashley chuckled softly in spite of herself, but sobered quickly. Shepard must have sensed she wanted to say something, waited for her to figure out what. She wiggled her toes, watching the laces flop. Stupid boots. She’d never have needed to buy them if they’d been prepared. If she’d been faster. _Better._ If she’d – 

“I shot Bourdelle,” she said suddenly. “Blew his head off. But not before he got McIllheney. I just…I mean, I know it wasn’t him. Not anymore. But when he ran up that hill at us I actually _reached_ for him. Like I it was still him and I could…help. But instead he grabbed  McIllheney…” Her breath hitched. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Shepard insisted. 

She leaned her head back with a gentle thunk and closed her eyes. “When people told you that, did you believe them?”

He thought for a moment. “Eventually. It takes time, Ashley. But it happens. If you try.” She caught a hint of something in his voice that she couldn’t identify. 

“And until then?”

“You lean on your crewmates. Fight hard. Help me bring Saren to justice.” 

She nodded at her hands. “I can do that.” 

“I know you can.” 

He gestured out into the cargo bay. “Be careful of places like this. You tuck yourself away alone in the dark like this at first just to get a few minutes to breathe. But those few minutes will start to stretch out. Before you know it you’ve forgotten the way out.” 

Shepard’s voice rang with painful experience. Again Ashley wondered what had _really_ happened down on Torfan, or if that was even what he was referring to. She got the feeling maybe it wasn’t.

“Yes, sir,” she said softly.

He tilted his head towards her in an effort to catch her eye. “Don’t worry. You’ll do the Williams name proud. The past can only catch up to you if you refuse to keep moving forward.” 

Ashley turned towards him, startled. He _knew_.

Shepard got up. “In the meantime, is there anything you need?”

“A new hardsuit,” she blurted out before she could stop herself. She forced herself to her feet, avoiding his expression. “I...sorry. I can’t ask that. There’s nothing wrong with mine. It’s stupid.” 

But Shepard only nodded. “I understand. You need a new sniper anyway. Spectre status gives me more pull than I had before. I’ll see what I can do. Come on.” He gestured towards the elevator. “You need some sleep.” 

It wasn’t until much later that Ashley wondered why Shepard was still up, and if she wasn’t the only one on the _Normandy_ who couldn’t sleep. 

 

 

* * *


	15. Confluentem

Few in the Alliance could elicit the level of respect Admiral Steven Hackett demanded. The Fifth Fleet Commander’s ascent from enlisted man was the stuff of legend, one that Shepard did not believe suffered from exaggeration. His heavily lined face had been among the first to see the space that waited beyond the Sol relay, and the jagged scar disrupting the perfect symmetry of the thick, grey hair dusting his chin had been earned in the First Contact War.

The pale, keen eyes gazing out from under a naval cap made it clear that after everything they had seen before this occasion was merely a footnote. _This_ was the man that Anderson said kept tabs on him. The man partially responsible for making him a Spectre. Anderson and Udina had done all the shouting, but Shepard had the feeling that without the silent, stoic support of Admiral Hackett he would never have made it inside the Citadel Tower. 

“Sir,” Shepard said, standing a little straighter. “Your message said you had a mission for me. Something about a probe.”

Hackett clasped his hands loosely behind his back. When he spoke his voice sounded like worn gravel. “It’s an…uncomfortable matter. During the First Contact War we fired off a number of espionage probes into turian space. Most were recovered, but we lost contact with a few.” He inhaled deeply through his nose. “One of those few just transmitted a ‘mission complete’ burst.”

Shepard frowned. “Where has it been all this time?” 

Hackett’s expression did not change. “We don’t know.”

“Something tells me this is more than just a probe, or you wouldn’t be calling me.” 

Hackett nodded once. “The probe has a built in demo nuke. During the First Contact War we didn’t know what we were dealing with. We couldn’t chance the turians getting their hands on our technology. If the wrong people find that probe, it’s not going to go over well with the Council. And if someone finds it, tampers with it…” He let the thought hang. 

Shepard ran a thumb over his chin. “I’m still not sure what makes me the man for this one. Lt. Alenko is the only one on board who’s had any training with nukes or disarm codes. ” Shepard paused, then understood. “You want the _Normandy_. We can use the stealth system to get in and out unnoticed.” 

Another nod.

Shepard wondered what would happen if he declined. Technically a Spectre’s authority superseded the chain of command.But most Spectres worked alone, outside the military. Shepard was at the helm of an Alliance ship, with a – mostly – Alliance crew, which made the lines decidedly blurry. 

Suddenly it occurred to him that Hackett might be testing him, wondering where Shepard thought his own loyalties lay. He straightened his arms at his sides, then offered a quick salute.

“Consider it done, sir.” 

The Admiral dipped his chin ever so slightly in response, but gave no other sign that Shepard’s intuition had been right. “Thank you, Commander. Hackett out.”

The viewscreen went blank, severed from the other end, filling the comm room with silence that hummed in his ears. 

Shepard took a seat in one of the comm room’s chairs and tapped his fingers against the armrest. Weariness tugged at him from every angle but he was still restless, the visions from the beacon driving him with relentless urgency he couldn’t seem to tamp down. He’d thought about asking Dr. Chakwas for a sleep aid, but that would require admitting he needed it. While he trusted her adherence to doctor/patient confidentiality, he wasn’t prepared to reveal that her new commander might already be fraying at the edges. 

Beyond Therum there had been no plan. Saren had gone to ground, out of sight and out of reach, free to continue his pursuit of the conduit. Unless Liara could point them in the right direction he would be forced to sit and wait for a lead, something he didn’t particularly excel at. He needed to do something. Might as well go fetch a probe. 

“Joker,” he said, the sound of his voice echoing faintly in the empty room. “Set a course for the Voyager Cluster. Engage the stealth system once we reach Amazon.”

“ _Aye, sir.”_

He stood up slowly, hearing the creak of too many joints in the process. At least there was one thing he could look forward to. If they were going on a recon mission planet side, it meant he’d finally get to test the Mako. 

Shepard was only mildly surprised to find Alenko leaning casually against the wall outside the conference room. Shepard wondered how long he had been waiting. 

“It was a test, wasn’t it?” he asked, falling into step beside his CO.

“What was?” Shepard asked, skirting the steps to the galaxy map podium on his way to the stairs. He overheard Pressly griping about a miscalculation he’d discovered on one of the starcharts as they passed by. Some poor serviceman stood meekly before him, trying to bravely shoulder the tirade.

“Last night,” Alenko persisted. “The poker game. It was a test.” 

Shepard smiled to himself. It had been eating Kaidan alive all night, he had no doubt. “Pretty sure it was your idea, not mine.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Not a test,” he assured him. “Just a question.” He moved purposefully down the steps, hand gliding over the handrail. Alenko trailed him a bit more reluctantly. 

“Yeah, well it didn’t even occur to me,” he muttered. “I never once thought about asking Garrus or Tali to join us.” 

Shepard hit the bottom of the steps, waited for him to catch up and clapped him on the back. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Alenko. I wasn’t passing judgment. Just offering something to think about.” He pulled a datapad containing the mission parameters out of his pocket and handed it over. Kaidan accepted it warily. 

“What’s this?”

“You and I are going probe hunting.”

The LT raised an eyebrow. “That sounds exhilarating.”

Shepard grinned. “In the Mako.” 

Alenko’s eyes widened a little. “Ah, I’m sure Chief Williams would love a shot at this one, sir.” 

“Nope. I need someone with disarm codes.” 

_“Disarm_ codes? What kind of probe is this?”

“The kind no one is supposed to know about.” 

“Ah. That kind.” 

“Better read up, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir,” he said with a sigh.

Shepard started towards his quarters, then paused. “Have you seen the Chief? I wanted to run some specs by her for a new sniper rifle.” _And hardsuit_ , he added silently. But that one he was keeping to himself. 

Alenko’s expression contorted slightly. “Uhh, cargo bay? She said something about sparring.”

_Sparring_ , Shepard wondered. With who? 

~

Wrex scented the human female the moment she stepped off the elevator. The cloying smell of alkaline, glycerol and phenols radiated from her pale flesh, hitting his nostrils all the way across the cargo bay. The first two were undoubtedly the result of humanity’s apparent obsession with constantly cleansing themselves, the latter from the noxious stimulant beverage she consumed regularly. He did not look up to confirm his guess. Instead he kept his focus on the open diagnostic panel on his armor and watched her out of the corner of his eye. 

The only thing in his mind that set her apart from the others was that she was not outwardly intimidated by him, a trait that only Shepard shared. No other human voluntarily spent any time in the cargo bay. Aside from that, there was little about her or any of the others on board that interested him. He wasn’t here for them. He wasn’t even really here for Shepard, though Wrex was forced to admit that this human commander was far more than he’d first expected. 

The female did not go to the weapon’s locker like usual. Instead she approached him with narrowed eyes and a set jaw, arms folded across her chest. Wrex eyed her impassively. 

“What do you want, human?”

“Commander Shepard wants us to mingle a little with the new crewmembers, _krogan,_ ” she shot back. “So here I am.”

Wrex straightened to his full height. She did not flinch. Most of the humans on this ship would prefer to use words against an enemy, even as that enemy drove a blade into their chests. This one was willing to use her fists. She was _krant_ to Shepard, and maybe even worthy of it, unlike that other whelp, the one called Alenko. That one was soft, still believing that the galaxy held uncompromising integrity in higher regard than the more sordid alternatives. Shepard, Wrex sensed, did not. This one might not either. 

It mattered little to him. He had seen warriors rise and fall for the same reasons over the course of centuries, each one longer than the last. She was just another face he would forget.

“The turian and his quarian pet are on the crew deck,” he told her. “Go find them if you want conversation.” 

One of the thin strips of hair resting over her eyes formed an arch. “If I wanted to talk to them, that’s what I’d be doing right now.” 

There was a note of anger in her voice that amused him. 

“You hate the turians,” she grumbled when he did not respond. “Why should I be so ready to jump into bed with them? The First Contact war was a lot more recent than the Rebellions.” 

Wrex’s scales tightened, and his lip curled away from his teeth. “You think time makes a difference?”

She gestured with one hand. “You aren’t the only ones they tried to wipe out.”

“It’s not the same,” he snapped. 

“Sounds the same to me.” 

The hatred that lay mostly dormant these days flared to light in Wrex’s chest with sudden, intolerable rancor. His fingers clenched at his sides, voice dropping dangerously low. “So humans were infected with a genetic virus that renders all but one in a thousand females sterile? And that virus has destroyed your entire species?” 

The bravado she had held onto so tightly since entering the cargo bay faltered. Her stance shifted, easing enough that had Wrex wanted to attack, her reaction would have been too slow to counter. He did not think it was a mistake Shepard would have made.

“Ok maybe it’s not the same,” she said, tone subdued. “I didn’t mean to…um.”

He waved her off with an irritated toss of his arm. The only thing more useless than ignorance was pity. He stooped back over the diagnostic panel of his armor, assuming their conversation was finished. 

The truth was, while the genophage had certainly crippled the krogan it was not what was killing them. They were taking care of that themselves. The genophage had set them adrift. With no strength to unite behind and no future ahead of them, they had nothing to fight for but themselves. It made them meager. Made them _small._ Long ago Wrex had tried to force them to remember what had once made them great. Retreat within their own borders, focus on breeding, tear down the fate the turians had handed them and reforge their own. But those attempts had ended one dry, hot morning at the Hallows in a river of blood. 

Whether they had known it or not, when the salarians developed the genophage they were attacking more than just physiology. They had found a way to use the krogan’s own nature to let them defeat themselves. 

Williams had not left. 

“If it’s that bad, why are you here? Why be a mercenary?” she pressed. “You’re a battlemaster. That’s a big deal, isn’t it? Why aren’t you on Tuchanka trying to help your people cure the genophage?” 

He uttered a derisive snort. “Cure the genophage. When is the last time you met a krogan scientist?”

“Yeah, but—”

“What does it matter?” he interrupted.

“Hey,” she said, holding her hands up. “If you don’t care, I sure as hell don’t care. But if I’m supposed to trust you with my six, it would be nice to know what the hell you’re doing here.” 

Wrex rose once more, taking a few steps closer until his face was inches from hers. “The krogan are warriors,” he said with a sneer. “We like the fight, and Shepard is in the middle of one of the greatest fights of our time, the likes of which haven’t been seen since the Rebellions. Since the Rachni. I came for that.”

“Fair enough,” she said with a slow exhale.

“Are we done?” he asked. 

He could sense the muscles in her body tense, her blood run a little hotter. The familiar tang of fear threaded his nostrils, made all the more intense by the hard running air circulators working to combat the heat stored in the hull. 

“No.”

At last, they had reached the real reason for her visit. He waited.

“I want you to teach me,” she said finally.

Wrex narrowed his eyes. “Teach you what.” 

“Teach me to be a battlemaster.”

He guffawed, the sound enough to reverberate off the deckplates. “You don’t have the strength or the bone density to spar with me. Not to mention the lifespan to learn.”

“You’ve had centuries of combat training,” she argued. “Surely you can show me a trick or two.”

He considered this. Humans were more fragile than the turians and tended to be less disciplined, but in some ways Wrex tended to think they were bolder, more brash. They had too much pride to back down from fights that they couldn’t win, and Wrex found that at least to be something they had in common. 

A human fighting like a krogan. _That_ was something Saren would never see coming. 

~

Shepard, Alenko, Tali and Garrus all turned to stare when Ashley limped to the mess a few hours later. The four of them were sitting at the table, going through a stack of datapads.

Alenko reacted first. “Jesus, Ashley. What happened?” He scrambled to his feet, scattering datapads with a careless swipe of his hand, no doubt intending to escort her straight to the med bay. She waved him off.

“It’s nothing,” she said, which judging by their expressions was an outright lie. She hadn’t seen a mirror yet, but she could already feel the bruises blooming on her skin and was downright positive she had a shiner brewing around her right eye. Sweat dripped off her face, staining her uniform. She was out of breath and thought she might have screwed up most, if not all, of the ligaments in her knee. She grimaced as she took a seat beside Shepard and across from Garrus. Every one of them gaped at her in silence. Next to Garrus, Tali shifted a little uneasily. Ashley of course could not see her face, but there was a sense of bewilderment about the quarian that Ashley found incredibly satisfying. 

On Shepard’s left Alenko was still half standing, half sitting, ready for her to change her mind about his assistance. 

Ashley glanced up at Sargent Greico, the mess officer who was also staring at her from behind the galley. “Can I get a glass of water or something?”

He brought her a pitcher, along with a shot of something that came from an unlabeled bottle. She supposed either he wasn’t too sore about the raid on his liquor cabinet last night, or she just looked _that_ bad. She drained the pitcher without bothering to use a glass, then downed the shot. 

“So,” Shepard asked after a long silence. “How are things?” 

“Peachy,” she replied, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She wondered how long they could last before they couldn’t take it anymore. The optics in Garrus’s visor flashed, probably evaluating her vitals. 

“Did Shepard take you out in the Mako?” Alenko asked, which earned him a dirty look from their commander.

She shook her head. A bead of sweat slid off her nose and dripped onto the table. Without a word Tali offered her a napkin. Ashley took it with a mumbled thanks, dipped it into the pitcher, mopped the table and then stuck the napkin on the back of her neck, sighing a little as the cool dampness made her skin tingle. 

“Spit it out, Chief,” Shepard said sternly. 

“Wrex is teaching me a few things,” she replied. 

“What,” Garrus said, “like how to stop projectiles with your face?” 

She finished off the pitcher in response. Greico approached them with another one. 

“This is the first human ship I’ve been on,” Tali said slowly, head canted slightly, “but is it safe to say this is…unusual?”

“Oh yeah, very safe,” Alenko replied, finally sitting fully back in his seat. “Ash, are you sure you don’t need Dr. Chakwas?” 

She wiped her mouth and shook her head. “Nope. Just a long, hot shower. The hottest of showers. And maybe a really big bucket of ice. Think they make ice suits rather than just ice packs?”

“I’ll ask the doc,” Shepard replied with a straight face. 

“Great. See you guys a little later. If you hear a big thud in the shower, don’t worry about it.”

Every eye was still on her as she got up and hobbled her way out. 

~

Alenko glanced at Shepard after their stunned silence wore off. “Did she really ask a krogan for combat lessons?”

“Apparently,” Shepard said, still staring even though she was out of sight. Suddenly he turned to Alenko. “And you have no idea how I’d handle the Mako, by the way.” 

“Yeah, but I know how you handle the Grizzly.” 

“Blow it out your ass, Alenko.” 

“Yes, sir.”

~

Once the others had left Shepard remained at the table, sipping a cup of lukewarm coffee with a grimace. His gunnery chief was wrestling with a krogan, his engineer was collaborating with a quarian on core efficiency and the litter of datapads Garrus had left behind all had to do with turian calibration techniques for GARDIAN lasers. On other Alliance ships it would have seemed like the twilight zone, but here on the _Normandy_ it was quickly becoming the average Monday. 

He tapped the datapad with the mission specs Hackett had sent him against the table. Chances were he’d get more done going over them in his quarters, but the silence in there was too thick, too uncomfortable. He preferred the ambient noise out here. 

As bizarre as the current crew makeup seemed, the pieces had so far fit together better than he had expected. With the exception of one. 

His eyes drifted over to the med bay door. 

What the hell was he going to do with Liara T’Soni? She didn’t know what the conduit was or why Saren wanted it. She wasn’t a soldier. But that didn’t change the fact that Saren had sent the geth after her. The safest place for her was on the _Normandy_ , but what was she supposed to do here? Research the conduit? Cold as it sounded, there wasn’t room for someone who couldn’t pull their weight. 

And to be honest, he couldn’t be entirely sure that she even wanted to help them. The crew had been casting wary glances in the direction of the med bay whenever they passed. They didn’t trust her. He supposed for the time being there wasn’t a reason to. 

He turned his focus back to the datapad. Sipped his coffee again. Grimaced again. He needed a fresh cup, but the pot was empty and the last time Shepard tried to brew his own he’d nearly set the galley on fire. _Everything is a weapon to you, Shepard_ , Stevens had once told him. His old N7 drill sergeant would just love to know he’d found a way to weaponize cookware. 

“Shepard?”

He jumped at the sound of Liara’s voice, losing his grip on the mug and spilling the contents all over the data pad, which hissed in protest. How the _hell_ had she snuck up on him?

“I’m sorry!” she gasped, reaching to set the mug upright and rescue the datapad as Shepard scrambled for some napkins. “I didn’t mean to, I mean, I didn’t…”

“It’s fine,” he assured her, mopping up the worst of the spill before it dribbled all over the floor. “Believe me, the coffee was terrible anyway.” He glanced over at her fretful face, his momentary irritation ebbing at the sight of her so much more alert. Free from the dust of Therum and the harsh light of the med bay, it was like seeing her for the first time. 

There was a lot to see. 

The asari were notorious for their ability to attract nearly every known species in the galaxy, from turian to krogan to even the hanar. At first glance Liara was no exception, but there was something…open about her, simpler, that wasn’t such a common trait. Though she clearly possessed the inherent wisdom and beauty of her people, unlike most asari, Shepard didn’t think she realized it. 

. She was wearing a green jumpsuit with a white collar and one white sleeve – maybe the same thing she’d been wearing on Therum, Shepard couldn’t remember. Her blue skin was bare of the facial tattoos so many asari favored save for a small painted arch over each eye, slightly reminiscent of human eyebrows. It made her seem young, which he supposed she _was,_ even though it was hard to think of someone a hundred years old as such _._ Unlike the sharp, streamlined skull crest of the turians, hers was thicker, curving gently as it rolled over her head like a wave. She had no visible ears, just a small juncture on the sides of her skull where the ridged skin of her neck joined the sweeping crest. She had freckles. Shepard didn’t know asari had freckles.

“It’s good to see you up and about,” he told her. “Feeling better?”

“Yes – much. Thank you. Dr. Chakwas is a very impressive physician.” She nervously held up the datapad, whose screen now sported clusters of distorted pixels. He took it with a dismissive wave. 

“It’s fine. Alenko has a copy anyway.” He refrained from mentioning the classified nature of the data that had been on it. 

“Something you need?” he prompted. 

She clasped her hands nervously in front of her. “Yes. Um. I was hoping to speak with you. When you had a moment.” 

“Now’s as good a time as any,” he said, and gestured for her to take a seat across from him. As she did Shepard noticed a coffee stain on his shirt. He shifted his arm in front of him in an attempt to cover it. 

“I’m sorry about my…reaction before,” she said.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he told her. “It was my fault. Too much to lay on you at once, especially when you weren’t up and about yet.”

“I wanted to know,” she said simply. 

He scrutinized her carefully. Despite her marked improvement something about her eyes troubled him, a worn, dazed look that hadn’t gone away with rest. “How are you really?”

She sighed, dropping her hands into her lap. “A little overwhelmed, to be honest. I’ve been on my own for months only to be rescued from the geth by someone who tells me my mother is a traitor and my life’s work may very well be obsolete.”

The last part took him by surprise. How had…then it hit him. The reapers. One nightmare had solved the mystery Liara had spent a lifetime trying to uncover. “I’m sorry,” Shepard he said. “In retrospect…that was even more than I thought I was throwing at you.”

She looked down at the table, idly tracing a finger through small beads of condensation left behind from Ashley’s pitcher. “I never imagined Benezia could be involved with something…” She shook her head. 

“Do you know anything about her association with Saren?” he prodded gently, knowing it wasn’t the right time but unable to put it off. “Did you know him through your mother at all?”

She shifted her gaze back to him, looking incredibly lost and forlorn. He stirred in his seat. 

“No,” she said at last. “I had never heard of him before you found me on Therum. All I know about him is what I learned from some information Dr. Chakwas put together for me. I’ve never even met a Spectre…until now.” She gave Shepard a long, conflicted look. Just like him, he was positive her decision to trust him came from her gut, even though her head was probably urging her to be cautious. He had no doubt she’d been reading up on more than just Saren. 

“Is there anything politically that might have motivated her to join Saren?” he asked.

“Not that I know of.” She sighed in frustration, propping her elbows on the table and resting her forehead in her hands. “She’s not a bad person, Commander. I don’t understand any of this.”

He hesitated to ask the question he needed to ask, for fear that he might not get the answer he wanted – needed. But then she surprised him. 

“You want me to help you find her, don’t you?” Her tone was listless, sad, but somehow resigned. He hated that it brought him a small sense of relief to hear. 

He leaned toward her. “I know it’s not an easy thing to ask. But if Saren really wants to bring the reapers back, you know better than anyone what that could mean. We have to stop him…by any means necessary.” 

She did not answer at first, picking her head up and allowing her gaze to drift around the mess. Two crew members were chatting over by the lockers, occasionally glancing in their direction. Shepard had no doubt she was aware of them and what they were probably whispering about.

After a moment she turned her eyes, a deeper blue than that of her skin, back to Shepard. “You touched a prothean beacon,” she said softly. “Communicated with it. Do you know what I would give to see what you saw?”

He straightened his shoulders uncomfortably. “You wouldn’t want to,” he said at last. “Not if you ever wanted to sleep again.” The admission was out of his mouth before he could stop it. He held his breath. 

“I know a few of her contacts back on Thessia,” Liara said at last. “I’ll get in touch with them and see what I can find. I just have one request.”

“Yes?”

She folded her hands. “When we find her, I want to go with you.”

Shepard tilted his head. “When we find her I doubt it will be free of resistance,” he said hesitantly. “You’re a scientist, not a soldier.”

Her expression darkened a little. “I know how to take care of myself.”

Dr. Chakwas had mentioned she’d run some tests on a biotic amp when she’d been brought on board, a Serrice Council model that had made Alenko wilt with jealousy. Asari were natural biotics, with more raw power than humans had ever been able to harness. But raw power didn’t mean you knew how to use it. 

“It’s not just about taking care of yourself,” Shepard insisted. “It’s also about the person standing next to you. And it’s not always defensive.”

The bereft, despondent air about her vanished abruptly, replaced by something stern and hard that bore an uncanny resemblance to the images of her mother he’d seen in her file. “I may not be the daughter Benezia envisioned,” she said, and he wondered what she meant by it, “but that doesn’t change the fact I _am_ her daughter. That meant spending my childhood training my biotics with asari commandos. I’m young, Commander, but when most asari my age were dancing and stripping in clubs, I was learning how to kill with my mind. I’ve been on my own for a long time. The geth were not the first to give me trouble.”

Shepard opened his mouth to respond, but she did not give him a chance. “Besides, you might need me. She has no reason to listen to you. You’re a Spectre, but she’s an asari matriarch, nearly a thousand years old. Nothing you say will interest her. But she might listen to me.”

He remained silent, tapping his thumb against his lap. The last thing he had expected from the meek, distressed scientist they’d picked up on Therum was the grim woman who now sat before him.

“Alenko and I are going after an errant probe in the Voyager cluster,” he said at last. “We should be there in a few hours. Suit up and meet us in the cargo hold. Don’t think it’ll be very exciting, but it might give us a chance to see what you’ve got.” 

Liara’s eyes lit up. “Of course. I’ll be there.” She stood hastily. 

Shepard pointed towards the elevator. “Check with Sergeant Barrett. He’s the requisitions officer. He’ll dig up some light armor for you. Have any training with a pistol?” 

“Yes,” she said. 

“Good. I’ll have him set you up with a Kessler.”

“You won’t regret this, Commander,” she said, flush with determination. He couldn’t help but smile as she made her way to the cargo elevator. 

“No,” he said softly. “Something tells me I don’t think I will.” 

* * *


	16. Antiquis Inimicus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bioware initially intended for Elanos Haliat to be a turian - it was an oversight that he appears as human in-game. So for the sake of this work, we're going with Haliat being turian.

Joker swiped at one of the haptic screens, keeping an eye on the Mako’s transponder signal as it trudged closer to the probe marker Hackett had provided. Out the viewfinder he could see the hazy red hide of Agebinium turning slowly below them. _That_ planet had seen some shit. It was the closest planet to Amazon, a long-period variable star that sent out pummeling blasts of heat and radiation at the apex of each cycle. Every sixteen years Agebinum’s atmosphere got a nice radiation bath, leaving little more than a thin layer of krypton and carbon dioxide behind for atmosphere. Joker didn’t see why they didn’t just leave the damn nuke where it was. Wasn’t like it would make much of a difference to this dump if it went off. 

In addition to the Mako’s transponder he had pulled up the biofeeds of its three occupants, Shepard, Alenko and the asari. He’d had to ping a few com buoys for an upload to monitor asari biology, and just in case Shepard wasn’t done adding to the _Normandy_ freakshow Joker had gone ahead and picked up the data packets for salarian, volus, and for kicks, hanar physiology. He had no idea if there was any point in bringing a sexy scientist along on a mission to pick up a stray nuke, but it was worth it just to see the look on Ashley William’s face. She’d almost had a stroke. 

Someone cleared their throat behind him. It was an unmistakably turian sound.

“Garrus,” Joker said with a sigh, leaning back in his seat and tossing his hand in the air. “What a wonderful surprise. I love company.” He was able to swivel his chair just enough to see the turian’s face plates contorted in what Joker thought resembled suspicion. One of the _Normandy’s_ few but significant design flaws was that his chair didn’t swivel 360. For some reason they hadn’t built her with cripples in mind.

“Did you get the specs I sent about the GARDIAN modifications I talked to Shepard about?” Garrus asked, gingerly folding himself into the empty seat beside the pilot. _Oh no, please, by all means. Make yourself comfortable_ , Joker thought with exasperation. 

Aloud, he said, “Yeah, I think my eyes glazed over by the third schematic. I don’t get it. You’re talking about some seriously complicated modifications for a negligible power boost. Even Adams seemed intimidated by some of this stuff, and I’m pretty sure he took his math book to prom.”

Garrus’s mandible quivered. “I…don’t know what that means, but I think I get the gist. And yes, it’s detailed work, but that half a percent could make more of an impact than you realize.”

“Pretty sure half a percent isn’t going to mean much against that giant dreadnaught. I mean, I know you missed that little encounter, but let me let you in on a little secret. Our GARDIAN laser isn’t going to be anything but a punch line to that thing.”

The turian actually seemed to deflate a little, a look that made Joker stifle a laugh. Something about the way the plates of his face shifted and almost _sagged_ struck him as absurd. “Okay, hey, whatever. Get Adams and Tali to do their part of it, and I’ll work on the targeting parameter changes up here when I get a few minutes. I mean, I have to have _some_ time to sit around and browse the extranet.” 

Garrus’ mandible quirked again – God, _every_ change in their expression was somehow linked to their mouths, which shouldn’t seem that unusual but damn did it look weird – and he got back to his feet. “You’re not like any pilot in the turian military.” 

“Amen to that. I mean, no offense. Alenko likes to tell me I’d get tossed out the airlock of most Alliance ships, too.”

Garrus tilted his head speculatively. “You know that used to be an actual turian method of discipline?” 

For once Joker was speechless. “Really?” 

“No.” 

“Har, har,” Joker said with a roll of his eyes. “Why don’t you go find Tali and try that one on her?” Though it seemed entirely plausible that airlock tossing _was_ a quarian way of handling things. They ran around the galaxy with their homes packed on their back like a fleet of turtles. With space at a premium, hell, maybe the occasional airlock decompression solved more problems than it created. 

“Let me know if you have any questions about those modifications,” Garrus said before disappearing down the CIC corridor. 

“Right, sure,” Joker muttered. Garrus was going to be a pain in the ass, though granted maybe less of a pain in the ass than other turians. 

Alone once more, he turned his attention back to the Mako’s transponder as it inched closer to the target. He pictured what they might be seeing, the swirling red dust of a radioactive bleached planet, mountain peaks rearing up against the horizon, the bump and rattle of the tank’s treads beneath them…for just a moment he was envious. But then he thought about the perils of gravity, the hassle of wearing a suit, and the frequency at which Shepard seemed to get shot at. 

Nah, he preferred ships. 

~

As the Mako rolled over Agebinium’s uneven terrain Liara found herself frequently reaching for the loop anchored to the hull above and to the left of her seat, which Alenko referred to as an 'Oh Shit' handle. Shepard’s withered expression told her he didn’t exactly appreciate the descriptor, but the longer she was in the cab the more apt it seemed. Liara didn’t think she’d ever seen someone so…zealous about driving a vehicle. 

“This handles so much better than the Grizzly,” Shepard said, and she could hear the grin in his voice from her seat behind him. Alenko, sitting in the front beside the Commander, merely grunted. 

Shepard gunned the engine as they sped towards a narrow trench gouged in the barren surface. When they reached the precipice Liara grabbed the loop once more and stifled a shriek as Shepard engaged the thrusters and propelled them across. Her stomach dropped as the tank came back down, knuckles pale from gripping the handle. The Mako hit the ground, lurched, but kept right on rolling. Thank the Goddess this monstrosity had an eezo core.

“Was that necessary?” Alenko yelled. 

“Wouldn’t you rather know what she’s capable of _before_ we’re getting shot at?” Shepard replied.

Liara didn’t say so but thought they had already established quite a startling number of the tank’s capabilities. They had diverted twice already on their way to the probe to catalog a few mineral deposits the Mako’s scanners had detected, and then once to salvage a crashed probe. At least it had meant getting out of the cramped confines of the tank for a few minutes. 

She was still getting a feel for the armor Shepard had obtained for her, a light Predator suit with mottled green and brown hues. The helmet was a slightly awkward fit over her crest but it worked well enough. She found herself compulsively poking around in the mini-frame, displaying targeting data from her pistol, scanning the terrain…

She’d worn suits before, but mostly ones designed for environmental protection, not combat. _It’s about the person standing next to you_ , Shepard had said, something she felt acutely once she’d linked her suit to theirs and had their lifesigns displayed prominently in the lower left of her HUD. If something went wrong, the link they established would give her emergency access to their suit configurations. In the event they were incapacitated and unable to make changes, that access was designed to allow her to try and save their lives. She’d never had someone’s life so literally placed in her hands before. 

The pistol riding her hip was a fairly easy one to use, but Liara was forced to admit that though she’d been trained to use one it had been a while since she’d bothered. After going over some safety precautions and schooling her on marine protocol for away missions Shepard had set up a target in the cargo bay and watched her shoot. She’d thought she’d done all right, but one look at the commander’s face told her otherwise, and when he’d picked up the pistol and fired three quick headshots in scarcely the time it took to breathe she realized he was right. Biotics were so second nature it didn’t really occur to her to use a weapon. It wasn’t until Therum that she realized what an error that was – maybe if she’d had her pistol things would not have gone so badly. 

But then again, if she had, she might not be here right now. As draining and tumultuous as things had been for the last few days, all of the alternatives she could think of were worse. She’d forced thoughts of her mother, Saren and the reapers out of her head for now – it was too much to deal with – and instead focused on the figure sitting in front of her. 

Shepard pulled the tank to a stop and began to fiddle with the targeting system on the cannon. “Find me a target, Alenko. I want to see what kind of firepower we’ve got here.” 

Alenko leaned forward to get a better look at his nav panel. “Those rocks at 51.5171° N, 0.1062° W look pretty vicious if you ask me.” 

“Yeah, well they just started some shit they can’t finish.” 

Liara heard the whine of the mass accelerator charge building in the cannon. The Mako shook as the slug discharged, but the shot was wide. 

“Did you _miss?”_ Alenko asked with a laugh. 

“The targeting suite on this thing leaves a little something to be desired,” Shepard mused, running his fingers over the haptic keys. 

Alenko muttered something, too low for Liara to hear, but Shepard shot him a glare. Some of the heaviness was missing from his posture. She hadn’t noticed how much it weighed him down until it was gone. 

Shepard had interfaced with a _working_ prothean beacon. She had only heard of it happening a handful of times, and in each of those cases the beacon was either too damaged to reveal much or the sensory overload was too powerful to handle. They were designed to meld with prothean physiology, therefore when it connected to something else the results were often…less than ideal. The brain tried to compensate for the things it did not understand by plugging in something it did, which usually ended badly. 

So what kind of a man was Shepard, to have stepped through that ancient portal into another culture and come out the other side still intact? 

He finished his calculations. “Ok, let’s try that again.” 

The cannon discharged again with a boom. This time the slug grazed a rocky crag that jutted out to the far left of the formation he was aiming for. Alenko said nothing, but Liara heard a small snort that might have been laughter. 

“How can a cannon be this useless at range?” Shepard muttered. “I need to get Tali or Garrus to find better targeting software. Whatever we’ve got is defective or was developed by some asshole who’s never sat in the real thing.” 

“Yes, sir,” Alenko said solemnly.

Shepard gave him a withering look. “You think it’s funny. Wait until I make you get out and fight enemies on foot because I can’t hit anything with a giant overpowered cannon.”

“I’m sure I’ll benefit from the experience,” Alenko replied.

“Damn right you will.” He put the Mako back into gear, once again heading for their intended target. 

They had been joking – at least Liara thought they were – but deep down she thought that if Shepard asked Alenko to get out and fight a thresher maw on foot, he’d do it. Without question. Goddess, Liara thought she might, too. There was just something about him that demanded – _inspired –_ more than you thought you were willing to give. When the words had tumbled out of her mouth asking to join his crew part of her had been screaming in protest, _what are you doing, you silly archeologist? You don’t belong here!_

Maybe she didn’t, but somehow it didn’t matter. He was young, _so_ young to her eyes, but standing in the same room with him made her feel small and utterly naïve. He’d faced more adversaries in his short years than she had in her lifetime. You could see it in his eyes. 

The Butcher of Torfan,the extranet called him. A nickname he’d earned on a small moon called Torfan. Yet he was the same person who had saved countless lives on Elysium during the Blitz, earning him the most honored medal the Alliance bestowed on its soldiers, akin to the asari Badge of Athame. What kind of man was both a butcher and a savior? 

Whatever the answer, Liara was _positive_ it had everything to do with his successful link with the beacon. What had he seen?

She recalled the weariness he’d carried on his shoulders when she’d woken in the med bay, the haunted look that had come over his face when she’d talked about the beacon. _You wouldn’t want to,_ he’d said. _Not if you ever wanted to sleep again._

But Goddess help her, she did. He had experienced in a few moments what she’d searched for her entire life.

The Mako jolted again as Shepard veered left to circumvent a rock formation far more sharply than should have been necessary. 

“Just testing the suspension,” Shepard said cheerfully as Alenko grumbled something indecipherable under his breath. At least he hadn’t driven over it, like he had the last one. 

“Ease up a little, Commander, will you?” Alenko said. “We’re getting close. It’s probably not a good idea to go joyriding over a live nuke.”

Shepard grudgingly obliged. The flag Joker had marked for them on their scanners was indeed close, but as they approached the coordinates she frowned. They were coming up on a low range of tumbled rock, the site of an old mine that had been abandoned during Amazon’s last heat spike. It quickly became clear they were going to reach the mine before they reached the nuke’s location. 

Alenko came to the same conclusion. “Any ideas how a nuke winds up inside a mineshaft?” he asked uneasily.

Shepard parked the Mako a short distance from the mine tunnel and sat for a few moments, looking intently at a sealed door accessible by ramp. Strewn around its base were remnants of an old camp that bore no signs of recent use. 

_What is he thinking?_ Liara wondered. 

“Someone moved it there,” he said eventually. “Alenko, anything on the scanners?” 

“Negative,” he replied. “But they may be having trouble penetrating the rock.”

Liara heard the whine of Shepard’s assault rifle powering up. Her skin prickled with fear. Maybe she shouldn’t have come. She glanced uneasily at the mine. _Why a mine? Of all places, why did it have to be a mine?_

She felt Shepard’s eyes on her. “Are you up for this?” 

Liara steeled herself, nodded. 

Shepard opened the hatch. 

~

Garrus found Tali engrossed in propulsion readouts down in engineering. Adams and the other two engineers on duty were running routine systems checks as the drive core hummed in the background. The IES was engaged, and while that was the case they kept religious eyes on the heat sinks. He couldn’t fail to notice however, that the two younger engineers kept risking glances over their shoulders at him once he strolled in. They seemed accustomed to Tali, even to the point of genuine affection, but Garrus was still the big bad turian. At least to some. Adams seemed uniquely untroubled by his alien crewmates. Garrus didn’t think even Wrex bothered him much. 

At least someone was happy to see him. “Hello,” Tali greeted him pleasantly. “What did Joker say?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Garrus mused. “I think he agreed to the modifications, but I admit it’s a little hard to tell. Not sure if it’s a human thing, or a Joker thing.” Garrus was rapidly learning there was a definite distinction between the two. He offered her a dextro ration bar, somewhat embarrassed by the mangled state it had managed to achieve in his pocket. “Hungry?”

“Oh! Yes, thanks. I meant to stop by the mess a couple of hours ago for something, but I got caught up down here.” 

So far Sargent Greico had made valiant attempts to fix them decent dextro meals, but unfortunately most had fallen woefully short of their goals. Garrus and Tali were already defaulting to ration bars over regular meals. On their next stopover he hoped to broaden their palates a little with some freeze dried meals that would taste a little less like paste. Tali didn’t seem to mind too much, but he wasn’t sure if she was just being polite or if growing up on the Flotilla, where resources were limited and palatable cuisine was more of a luxury, had tempered her taste buds. Garrus, on the other hand, had spent the last several years on the Citadel with some of the best restaurants in the galaxy. What he wouldn’t give for a bixon flank steak, or dextro sushi from that restaurant on the Sunset Strip.

“Look at this,” she said, pointing to one of her displays. “If we increase power output through this shunt, we can feed it to the GARDIAN without sacrificing the shields. We just have to figure out how to keep the relay from overloading.”

“Let me take a look.” 

He glanced over her data while she went about the complicated process of feeding the rations bar through her suit filters. It looked cumbersome. No surprise Tali skipped a meal here and there. Very few quarians lived or passed through the Citadel even on pilgrimage, so Garrus hadn’t been around them enough to give much thought to the difficulties living life in one of their suits would pose. He found himself admiring her for it. 

The Council thought little of the quarians thanks to the geth, and most systems shunned the approach of the Migrant Fleet. Quarians were likewise about as welcoming to other aliens, who posed just one more threat to their weak immune systems. The way Tali described it, day to day life in the Flotilla constantly revolved around ship maintenance and disease control. Each was considered the primary threat to the seventeen million lives scattered throughout fifty thousand ships, some as old as the quarian retreat from Rannoch three hundred years ago. That the quarians were still around at all with all the handicaps they faced was a testament to their durability.

Tali’s findings were unsurprisingly meticulous. Garrus began nosing through the GARDIAN relay schematics, looking for ways to bleed off the excess energy and reduce the overload risk. 

Tali leaned against the railing overlooking the drive core while he worked, still making her way through the ration bar. “So have you spoken to your father yet?” she asked. 

Garrus felt his plates tighten. “No…” he said hesitantly. “I think I’m hoping that if I keep avoiding that particular conversation long enough he’ll just get over it.” 

“Has that approach ever worked before?” 

He thought about the time he and Solana had pilfered one of their father’s survival kits to go camping as kids. They’d neglected to mention it, forgotten to replace it, and on his next deployment he’d nearly been demoted as a result. When he’d come back home they’d tried hiding in a tree – with the intention of staying there the rest of their _lives_ if that’s what it had taken – but eventually they’d gotten too hungry, not to mention Solana’s horrible realization of the difficulties a tree posed to using the bathroom. 

“I suppose not,” he admitted with a sigh. 

“Hey, I have a father who’s hard to please, too,” she told him. “When you’re the daughter of an admiral everyone expects a lot more from you, with a much smaller margin for error.”

“Admiral’s daughter?” Garrus remarked, the quiver in his subharmonics betraying his surprise. “No wonder you decided to chase after the geth for your pilgrimage in favor of something more...tame.”

She sighed somewhat glumly. “It’s even bigger than that. He’s not just an admiral. He’s the head of the Admiralty Board. He and the four other Admirals have veto power over the civilian Conclave. He literally holds the lives of the entire fleet in his hands. I can’t exactly settle for bringing back something routine like ship salvage.” 

Garrus felt a pang of sympathy, though it was somehow comforting to know that parent issues transcended species. “Don’t worry, Tali. I’m pretty sure that over the course of chasing down hordes of geth, turian renegades and asari matriarchs we’ll find something you can bring back that far exceeds anyone’s expectations.” 

“Thanks,” she said. “And you shouldn’t worry either. I’m sure your dad will be proud you’re out here tracking down Saren.” 

Garrus grunted. “Not likely. It may sound good to you, but turians aren’t supposed to go against the grain, and jumping in with Shepard is most definitely going against the grain.”

She tilted her head, brushing a few crumbs from the ration bar off her sleeve. “Do you regret leaving C-Sec?” she asked. 

“Fighting a rogue Spectre with countless lives at stake and no regulations to get in the way? Pretty sure that beats C-Sec.”

He couldn’t see her grin, but he could hear it in her voice. 

“I’m pleased the imminent destruction of all organic life has improved your career opportunities.” 

“Me too. Now if only Shepard would just hurry up and finish recovering that probe, we could get on with that modest goal.” 

“In the meantime,” she said, lifting a tool kit lying near her feet and handing it to him. “Time to get some work done.” 

~

Shepard took point as they entered the mine, weapon drawn, body tensed and ready. Alenko followed. Liara hadn’t noticed the amp plugged in to the base of his neck before but she saw it now. He was a biotic. _How surprising._

The shaft was a much more durable construct than Therum, but still similar enough to make her shudder. The only sound was that of their own footfalls, though Liara was breathing loud enough she was positive they could hear. 

Scanners still showed nothing as they reached a small cavern that split off into two more tunnels. Shepard consulted his omnitool, then motioned to the left branch. Alenko unsealed the door and Shepard led them down the shaft, shorter this time, which opened up into a much larger cavern strewn with storage crates and canisters. None of them looked new, but neither did they seem ancient. Shepard motioned for Alenko to head left, then signaled for Liara to follow him. 

A full circle of the cavern still revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Liara began to relax a little, but noticed Shepard seemed even more on edge.

“Who goes to the trouble of hauling a probe with a nuclear payload all the way down here?” Alenko asked uneasily. 

Shepard scowled. “Where’s the damn transponder?”

Alenko pointed to another door, leading them even deeper in. How far underground were they now? Liara could have used her HUD to answer that question, but she didn’t really want to know. 

Shepard held his rifle ready as Alenko unsealed the door, then again proceeded first down the tunnel. This one was slightly longer than the last, and ended in a chamber significantly smaller. The probe rested against a far wall. Liara realized with growing discomfort that the panels on its long, cylindrical face were lit and active. 

There was a loud rumble. Liara whirled in time to see a shower of dust come hurtling down the shaft they’d entered from. Shepard grabbed hold of her arm and yanked her sharply backwards, pulling her around and then behind him. Both he and Alenko were pointing their weapons. When the dust began to settle Shepard nodded to Alenko. “Check it out.” 

The lieutenant disappeared up the shaft. Liara bit her lip. _Escape from one mine to die trapped in another._

Shepard approached the nuke warily. Liara rubbed her fingers together, feeling out the gravity of the room. Within a few moments Alenko came jogging back in, expression grim. “We’re sealed in,” he reported. “Looks like demolition charges. They’re blocking the tunnel behind us.”

Swearing, Shepard activated his comm. “Shepard to _Normandy_. Joker, do you hear me? Joker!”

“ _They can’t hear you, Commander_ ,” a voice said. A holo projection of a turian flickered to life just to the right of the nuke. He bore unusual clan markings on his face and was wearing a heavy suit of armor. A visor similar to Garrus’ covered his right eye. 

“ _The ore in this cavern is laced with heavy metals. Your suit radios are useless_.” 

Shepard strode towards the projection. “Who the hell are you?” 

“ _Elanos Haliat_ ,” the turian replied. “ _I doubt you know me by name, but you’re quite familiar with my work_.”

“You’re assuming I give a damn, Haliat,” Shepard said.

“ _Believe me, Commander Shepard, you do. If I interpret the reports out of Torfan correctly, you care_ very _much_.”

Shepard’s shoulders went rigid. Haliat’s mandibles flicked with pleasure. 

“ _You see_ ,” he went on, “ _at one time I led the Terminus clans. Pirates answer only to the strongest. The one who kills the most men, seizes the most ships…pillages the most colonies. Seven years ago_ I _was that one._ ” 

“Elysium,” Shepard muttered. Liara could not see his face, but his voice was like a steel trap snapping suddenly shut. 

“ _Yes_ ,” the turian replied, subharmonics dripping with pride. “ _Elysium was my vision. Sacking the largest human colony in the cluster. It was to be my greatest victory!”_

Shepard folded his arms across his chest. “How did that work out for you?” 

Haliat snarled. “ _Your famous stand_ ruined _me. But now it is my turn. I found this…errant probe two years ago, and have been waiting since then to determine how I could best put it to use. Imagine my delight to learn that you of all people had been made a Spectre. Not that I’m surprised. Your work on Torfan makes you the perfect man to handle the Council’s dirty work.”_

Shepard’s fists clenched. Haliat paid no attention. 

_“What better person to cover up an Alliance mistake than a man no longer burdened by the constraints of law? Of course they would send you.”_ He laughed. “ _The first human Spectre, killed by his people’s own bomb. It almost makes the last seven years worth it.”_ __

“Won’t be worth much when you’re dead,” Shepard said, in a voice so flat and dead it made Liara shudder.

The turian, however, was unimpressed. “ _That is not a problem I’m about to have,_ ” he replied. “ _Goodbye, Shepard._ ”

Liara could feel Shepard’s rage radiating off of him like it was a living thing. _“_ You’ll see me again, Haliat,” he said, each word slow and razor sharp.

_“I very much doubt that.”_

The holo vanished, and to Liara it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. There was a terrifying pause before Alenko dropped beside one of the nuke’s active panels. “It’s on a timer, Commander,” he said in a clipped tone, the urgency in his voice spurring them to action. Shepard looked at his LT with fury in his eyes. 

“Make it happen, Kaidan.” 

Alenko pointed. “Everyone take a hard point. There’s three of them. I’ll talk you through it!”

“How much time to do we have?” Shepard asked. 

“Believe me, you do not want to know.” 

~

Joker shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to ignore the throbbing in his toe. On his last trip to the crew deck he’d stubbed it on something and heard the familiar crack. Looked like he needed to finally give in to Dr. Chakwas’ demands and swing by the med bay, much to his dismay. She’d been after him since the moment he got on board, but he’d been able to put her off until now. As much as he wished he could just ignore it, he’d learned the hard way that was a bad idea. But the ordeal of jumping to yet another new doctor, going over the entire complicated history, again, listening to the usual cautions and warnings, again, and hearing the same list of treatment options that didn’t work _again_ was more than he could stand. 

He needed doctors. Hated doctors. They usually hated him too, once they got to know him. 

At least this time he could ease Dr. Chakwas in with something on the mild side. His first encounter with his CMO on the _Sutjeska_ had been a snapped tibia. That was a fun one. 

He stretched gingerly, not looking forward to asking for assistance getting up once Shepard and the away team returned. They were taking _forever_. 

“Any sign of them yet?” 

Joker glanced behind him to see Pressly leaning against the doorframe of the cockpit, sipping a cup of coffee. 

Joker shifted in his seat, grimaced a little, and pointed to the transponder signal. It hadn’t moved in an hour. “Mako’s still parked. Don’t know what’s taking them so long.” 

“Have you tried reaching them?”

“While they’re in the middle of deactivating a nuke?” 

Pressly grunted.

Joker smirked. “Relax, old man. The biofeeds are still in the green. Nothing to worry about.” 

A light on the comm panel flashed. Joker frowned, tapping it with a finger. It had come in on priority bandwidth, originating from the Citadel. Specifically, Captain Anderson. “Then again…” he said. 

“What is it?” 

Joker showed him the message. Pressly’s eyes widened a little. Joker activated the comm link to Shepard’s hardsuit. “ _Normandy_ to Shepard. Come in, Commander. Hate to bother you, but we’ve got something important here.” 

There was no answer. 

~

Liara’s palms were sweating inside her suit gauntlets. Alenko’s instructions were crisp and calm, but there was unmistakable urgency in his voice. He’d uploaded a decryption protocol to her omnitool, but it had to be implemented manually. Liara had some tech skills, but she’d definitely never had to deactivate a nuke.

Her hands shook suddenly and she concealed a gasp. Within seconds Alenko was beside her. “We’ve got this,” he told her. 

He input the final algorithm. She held her breath. 

The light on the panel flicked from green to red. Alenko exhaled with relief. “You do not want to know how close that was,” he said. 

“What do we do now?” Liara ventured, trying to keep the anxiety out of her voice. 

“We’re finding a way out of here,” Shepard growled. “Someone out there needs my boot up their ass.” 

“I’m detecting another shaft in that last chamber,” Alenko said, consulting his omnitool. “It’s sealed off, but if it’s still intact it might take us to another exit higher up the mountain.” 

Shepard strode wordlessly back up the shaft. Alenko located the sealed door behind a wall of crates and opened it swiftly.

“Lot easier than a nuke,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. Shepard did not reply. There was something dark, almost dead about his expression that terrified her. Every movement he made was controlled and deliberate, like water held back by a dam. One glance at Alenko told her he saw it too. 

Shepard’s wrath only increased as they made their way gingerly through the opened shaft, which wound slowly upwards at a steeper incline than the route they’d taken in. Like Alenko had guessed, this one was leading them higher into the mountain. By the time they reached the exit Shepard already had his gun drawn. 

“Hang on, Shepard, we need to—”

“He dies today,” Shepard said. “Right now. Got it?” 

Alenko’s shoulders went rigid. “Yes, sir.”

~

Joker made another attempt to raise the Mako. Nothing. Shepard’s radio was silent, as was Alenko’s and the asari’s. _What the hell…_

Then to his great surprise, the Mako’s transponder began to move. Exhaling in momentary relief he tried once more to get a response. This time though, there was not only nothing, but his scans were telling him the comm line had actually been disabled. Manually. _Oh, shit._

“Pressly?” 

“What.”

“Shepard’s in trouble. Any chance we can get in closer for an air drop?” 

The navigator scowled at some of the data feeds crawling across Joker’s screen. “Give me a minute. And tell Williams and the rest of those aliens to assemble in the cargo hold.” 

 

 


	17. Prodromus

They wound their way down a rough path leading out from the mineshaft and to a ridge, below which their scanners picked up movement. Haliat’s camp. Liara’s combat scanner read eight lifesigns, turian, batarian and even a vorcha. Staying low she swept the camp with her eyes, breath catching in surprise at the sight of the Mako parked nearby – not at all where they left it. Shepard made a noise in his throat.

“So he wants to kill me _and_ take my goddamned tank.” He checked the heat sink on his rifle.

Alenko came to stand in front of him, holding up one hand. “Hang on a second, Shepard. We need a plan. It’s three against eight, and once they see us we’re totally exposed up here.”

“The plan is that none of them leave this planet alive. I’m going for Haliat. You and T’Soni cover me. Got it?”

“Sir—”

Shepard pushed past him, and without further warning began to descend the ridge, sliding down the steep slope through loose and tumbled rock. Below them several heads turned in their direction, attracted by the noise and sudden plumes of dust kicked up by Shepard’s boots.

Alenko swore and went after him. Liara had no choice but to follow, wrapping herself in her barrier and forming a glove of dark energy as she went.

Haliat’s first barrage fell short. Only one of his men, another turian, appeared to be armed with a sniper rifle. Shepard saw it and skidded left, opening up Alenko to take aim while Shepard kept moving. Alenko palmed a tech mine, but both of them knew it would fall short. Liara inhaled deeply, the rush of her corona bathing her skin with increasing warmth. Using the targeting software of her miniframe she focused on the sniper rifle, and bent her control over the surrounding gravity well. It was a precision strike from far away, difficult for even skilled biotics, but if there was one way in which Liara T’Soni resembled her mother, it was this.

 _Feel your target,_ her mother’s voice whispered in her ear _. Lock it in your mind. Make it part of you._ A skein of blue energy wrapped the gun in a tight embrace. Liara smiled grimly and yanked. The gun ripped from the turian’s surprised hands and somersaulted away, hopelessly out of reach. Alenko whirled to face her in shock, but she had already summoned another well of dark energy. A batarian and the vorcha had run to the turian’s aid, all poorly shielded.

“Can you use your biotics to collapse a singularity?” she called out.

Alenko, still stunned, coughed out a yes. Without further hesitation Liara focused on a single point near the enemy, reaching deep into the gravity well and collapsing it in on itself. The air around it snapped and leered, alive with an electric charge Liara could feel from the hillside. An event horizon bloomed, swallowing the pirates into a maw of intense gravitational forces that whipped them around like rag dolls.

Alenko waited until the singularity had reached its full strength, then wielded his own field that altered the invisible currents around them and struck the singularity with a resounding _boom,_ eviscerating the pirates into shimmering streams of blue and crimson gore.

Shepard reached the bottom of the ridge, careening past the carnage with sights set on Haliat as he ran for the Mako. Two batarians, reeling from the sight of their comrades’ sudden, emphatic demise recovered enough to try and intercept, but a tech mine from Alenko hit the ground at their feet and detonated with a resounding crack. He was in weapons range now, closing fast as he fired his pistol, taking advantage of their disrupted shielding to mow them down.

Alenko was not the only one with tech mines, however. One of the remaining turians had taken cover behind a crate, and as Shepard sprinted past laid one right at his feet. The blast slammed Shepard to the ground. Liara’s hardsuit alarms immediately triggered, informing her his shields were down. She could hear the screech of the overheat klaxon on his rifle from here. The turian moved in for the kill, but as he raised his boot to bring it down on Shepard’s neck he froze.

Liara stood with her hands outstretched, every ounce of her concentration pouring into a mass effect field that now held the turian immobilized. Shepard rolled, kicked his still-cooling weapon out of the way and drew a shotgun. Haliat stood a few meters away. He wore no helmet – his thulium laced carapace left him unharmed by the toxic atmosphere – and his shocked dismay was discernible even from a distance.     

Shepard pumped the shotgun, paying no heed to the fact that his shields had not yet recovered. His voice crackled over his comm.    

“ _You wanted to make this personal?_ ”

He laid down on the trigger again, the force of the slug sapping the turian’s remaining shields. Haliat stumbled and Shepard was on top of him, delivering a blow to the head that sent a stream of blue blood cruor from his nose. Shepard grabbed him by the back of his crest and jerked upward, eliciting a scream of pain. Shepard leaned in close. “ _It’s personal_.”

Liara looked away as he finished the job, letting go of her stasis field in the process. The freed turian lost his balance as gravity regained control of his body. Exhausted, Liara drew her pistol, aiming with a shaking hand, and pulled the trigger. She missed the first two shots, but the third hit home with a sickening squelch that made her want to throw up.

The remaining pirate, a batarian, tried to flee. Shepard glanced in his direction, scooped a discarded assault rifle off the ground and fired. The batarian screamed and fell.

Shepard lowered the gun, breathing heavily. Acrid smoke still drifted from his hardsuit, and there were deep, black scorch marks on his legs and chestplate. Liara’s HUD informed her the shield generator was fried. Alenko reached him, holstering his pistol. Liara was not far behind.

“You all right?” Alenko asked.

“Fine.”

“What the hell was—”

“Not now, Alenko.”

Alenko bristled. “Do you have any idea—”

“I said not _now,_ Lieutenant!” Shepard’s voice reverberated off the rock, tight and rich with anger. Alenko stayed silent this time, but Liara saw his fists clench, expression vague behind the glare of his faceplate.

Shepard headed back to the Mako without another word. When they were safely inside Alenko re-enabled the comm system amidst a painful, awkward silence.

“Joker,” Shepard said once it was up. “You read us?”

_“Oh, thank the Christ, Commander. We’ve been trying to raise you for an hour. Got the cavalry ready to send in. Everything all right?”_

“The nuke’s been disabled. We’re ready to get the hell out of here.”

“ _Good, because I’ve got an emergency call up here from Captain Anderson you’re gonna want to take.”_

~

The moment they returned to the _Normandy_ Shepard disappeared to his quarters, ignoring the protestations of Joker and Pressly. Alenko went to go mollify them, discarding his helmet in the cargo bay and leaving it there, but either forgetting or choosing not to care that he still wore the rest of his armor. Liara sat on a crate near the lockers of the dim cargo bay, dutifully pulling off her armor piece by piece and shrugging back into her jumpsuit. She still wasn’t sure what had happened, or what she was supposed to do next.

It took her a few minutes to even realize she wasn’t alone. Well, she knew she wasn’t _alone_. Garrus Vakarian and a few _Normandy_ techs remained behind to secure the Mako and run systems checks. But they were on the other side of the cargo bay and ignoring Liara completely. However the quarian, Tali, wasn’t. She’d and several others had been armed and ready in the cargo bay when Shepard had returned. Though Tali had no need to strip out of her armor she’d stayed behind, and now sat down on the crate beside Liara.

“Sounds like things didn’t exactly go as planned,” she said, the artificial flange in her voice tinged with sympathy.

Liara let out a shaky breath. It wasn’t until now, sitting here in the cargo bay, that she realized how shaken she felt, how _tired_. “No, not exactly. Though I’m getting the impression that’s par for the course on this ship.” She picked up her chestplate and headed to the locker she’d been assigned. Tali scooped up her boots and followed.

“Thanks,” Liara said gratefully, stuffing them inside the locker. She’d clean them later.

“Any time,” Tali replied. “I’ve got a few things to finish in the engine room, but if you’d like some company later, I’d be happy to join you.”

“I’d like that,” Liara said, and meant it.

She dragged herself to the elevator and took it to the crew deck, wanting nothing more than a shower and sleep. But when she headed aft she found Alenko seated at the mess table, head in his hands. Dust and grime coated his hardsuit, his hair was damp with sweat and when he looked up there were smudges on his face from where he’d wiped his brow with gauntleted hands. She slid into the seat across from him, trying not to glance at the nearby door to Shepard’s cabin.

Alenko offered her a tired smile. “Hey, you did good down there. Actually, forget good. That was incredible. Never seen a precision field like that. And a singularity is something I haven’t been able to pull off.”

“Thanks,” she said, uncertain what else to say.

Alenko sighed a little. “Things don’t usually…go like that.”

Whether he meant the ambush by pirates or Shepard’s reckless assault she wasn’t sure, but thought he probably meant the latter. Though she didn’t exactly like to think that pirate ambushes _were_ considered routine.

“Is he all right?” she asked.

“Shepard?” Alenko glanced over at the door to his quarters, then rubbed the bridge of his nose. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment. “Yeah, he’ll be fine,” he said at last. “That just got more…personal than he was expecting. If Haliat really did mastermind Elysium, well. Shepard…attacks on colonies hit pretty close to home for him.”

“Thank you for saving us down there,” she said. “The nuke, I mean.”

He chuckled. “It’s rapidly becoming a daily part of the job. But it was my pleasure.” He rolled his neck, groaning a little. “I guess it’s time to get this suit off. Get cleaned up. You should get some rest, Dr. T’Soni. There are longer days than this ahead, believe it or not.”

Liara believed it. Too well. 

Alenko got to his feet, wavering a little, hand rising to his temple. He swore softly. She started to ask if he needed assistance, but he headed off towards the showers and paid her no heed.

~

Shepard sat in the dark of his cabin, gazing into nothing. He still wore his armor, coated in the dust of Agebinium and the faint tang of fried servos. His suit’s automatic diagnostic informed him the damage was too extensive for field repair, probably too extensive for repair period. Looks like Williams wasn’t the only one in need of a new hardsuit.

Every inch of his body hurt. Alenko was right to be angry – there was no excuse for his heedless attack. Had he been at all focused on his surroundings and not gotten tunnel vision at the sight of Haliat he would have seen that tech mine coming. He could still see that frozen boot hovering mere inches from his face.

Elanos Haliat.

The names and faces of the dead on Elysium began rolling through his mind unbidden. The Alliance had heaped so much praise on him in the aftermath, lauded him for his heroics and celebrated the lives he’d saved. They never thought about O’Neal or Cory Bonner, who had implemented the diversion Shepard had used to draw the batarians away from the civilian bunkers and died for it, or Angela Singarella and her daughters Moira and Ellie, who had been on the wrong side of the barricade. There were hundreds who had been sacrificed that day, their names and faces seared into his brain. And if he allowed his thoughts to drift further back…

He always romanticized those moments right before. Whatever imperfections may have in truth existed that last night on Mindoir had been blurred and eventually erased over the years, until in Shepard’s mind it was a halcyon memory, the apotheosis of a childhood about to come to a crushing, bloodied end.

It didn’t matter if that wasn’t actually true. None of it mattered, anymore.

But he still remembered the after with sick, rich clarity. Could still taste the fear in the back of his mouth, feel the weight of the kitchen knife in his hand, smell the eye-watering sulfuric stench of burning red hair.       

He remembered the front door opening, the smile on his mother’s face draining away, the batarian with a gun to his father’s temple. The bowl of mashed potatoes, that first successful crop they’d all worked so hard on, tumbling from Shepard’s nerveless fingers and splattering all over the floor. Oddly enough, it wasn’t the blood that had marked him the most, not the fire, not the screams. It had been those white, puffy gobs smeared across the floor.

Men like Haliat were the reason Mindoir happened. He didn’t care if it had been reckless. Given the chance, Shepard would kill Haliat again. Over and over, with no regrets and no sleep lost.

The comm on his desk chimed. It had already done so twice, but Joker had now resorted to the emergency frequency.

He turned in his chair and hit the comm panel, harder than he intended. “What.”

“ _Sorry sir, but you’ve got to take this. Anderson is screaming to talk to you. It’s about the geth.”_

Shepard grunted and cut him off, but accepted the incoming message. Anderson’s face materialized on the vidcomm, his graven features rigid with irritation.

“ _Commander, I’ve been trying to reach you for an hour.”_

“I’ve been busy. Sir.”

He watched as Anderson took a good look at him, expression shifting to surprise and even dismay as he noticed Shepard’s scorched, ruined armor. “ _Shepard. What the hell happened?_ ”

“I was on a recovery mission for Hackett,” Shepard replied, watching his face closely for a reaction. “It was a set up by Elanos Haliat. Ring any bells?”

There was a long pause, and in it, Shepard briefly wondered if Anderson knew about the mission, or worse, if he or Hackett had any foreknowledge of Haliat.

Anderson’s shoulders sagged a little, and the nagging thought left Shepard’s mind as quickly as it had come. “ _We thought Haliat was dead._ ”

Shepard grimaced. “He is now.”

“ _Shepard—”_

“It’s done,” Shepard interrupted. “The mission was a success. Haliat’s days of murdering colonists are over. What do you have for me?”

“ _I’d like to know what happened.”_

Shepard was not about to be drawn into a conversation about it. Not now. Not with Anderson. Not with _anyone_ , but definitely not with Anderson.

“You’ll get a copy of the report.”

Anderson exhaled deeply, his expression uneasy. “ _Are you sure you’re all right?”_

“What do you have for me?” Shepard repeated. “Joker said it was about the geth.”

Anderson’s eyes narrowed. His hands, clasped in front of him on his desk, fidgeted a little. “ _We’ve gotten a distress call from the colony of Zhu’s Hope on Feros. They’re being attacked by the geth.”_

Shepard frowned, shifting a little in his seat and wincing as his muscles screamed. That slide down the slope was going to come back to haunt him. “What’s on Feros the geth would want?”

_“Prothean ruins, for starters. It’s a largely intact metropolis city. The surface is uninhabitable, so the colony is built in one of the skyscrapers. It’s small. ExoGeni funded it. They’re conducting some kind of research.”_

“What kind of research?”

_“They’re keeping that to themselves. It’s the best lead we have right now. If the geth are there Saren could be with them.”_

Shepard leaned back in his chair, idly rubbing an aching shoulder. “Ok, we’ll check it out. Send me whatever you’ve got on Feros.”

Anderson leaned forward. “ _Shepard, are you sure you’re all right?”_

“I need better gear,” he said by way of reply. “Guns, armor. High end modifications.”

_“I’ll coordinate with your requisitions officer.”_

 Anderson’s eyes flicked away briefly, and his hands began to drum on his desk. Shepard folded his arms and remained silent.

_“How are your new…additions working out?”_

Shepard dipped his chin slightly, some of the tension riding his body replaced with a flush of pride. For the first time he thought about what Liara had pulled off on Agebinium. There was no question she’d saved his ass, and he hadn’t even thanked her.

“You’d be proud of them, sir.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Anderson’s face. “ _Good. Watch your back, son. There’s more like Haliat out there.”_

“I will.” Shepard severed the comm link before Anderson could say anything further. Now he drummed his fingers on the desk.

“Joker.”

_“Aye, Commander.”_

“Find out whatever system Feros is located in and have Pressly plot a course. We’re going after some geth.”

~

Prodrome phase. Kaidan wished like hell he was wrong, that maybe the stiff neck was purely combat related, but the moment he’d passed through the mess, the smell of the beef stew Greico was cooking sent a crippling wave of nausea over him.

An invisible clock in his brain had started to tick, putting him on an unavoidable collision course with pure misery.

He made a beeline for the med bay for the first round of NSAIDs that he usually took as a preemptive measure. When the pain finally hit it would be time for the triptans.

There was no such thing as good timing for a migraine, but he couldn’t think of a worse scenario than being mere hours away from another encounter with the geth.

When the doors slid open Kaidan found Joker sitting on one of the beds, wearing a disgruntled and uncooperative look as Dr. Chakwas tended to his foot with a small, portable machine.

“…constantly impressed by the lengths people will go to and the pain they will endure to avoid the short-lived discomfort of a bone knitter.”  She fished around in a drawer for an extension cable. “Have you been taking your bisphosphonates?”

Joker rolled his eyes. “With a giant glass of milk.”

At the sight of Kaidan Dr. Chakwas straightened, smoothing her silver hair behind her ear. “Lieutenant,” she said pleasantly. “What can I do for you?”

“Looking for some NSAIDs,” he said, shifting his feet. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Concern flooded the doctor’s face. Unlike Joker, Kaidan had visited Dr. Chakwas after taking his new post, and she knew exactly why he needed them. “How bad?” she asked.

“Nothing yet,” he assured her. “Just going on the preemptive. It’s coming.”

She combed through a medicine cabinet until she found the right bottle, then offered him two tablets. “I’ll speak to Commander Shepard about doing the next mission without you,” she said.

“No,” he said quickly. “No way. I’m still fit for duty. Could still be a day or two before it hits. Not gonna sit this one out.”

She angled her chin, sympathy on her face mingling with the medical pragmatism that he hated probably as much as Joker. “The last thing he needs is to be in the middle of something critical and have you incapacitated.”

Kaidan forced a smile. “I understand, doctor, but two out of our first three missions have involved disarming explosives intended to blow us to smithereens, so if it’s all the same to you I’m going along. Saren’s more important than a migraine.”

“Very well,” she said, crossing her arms. “But if it hits before we arrive I’m going to reevaluate the situation. And I have the final word.”

“Sure, Doc.” He was in no mood to argue. Medication in hand, he sought out a glass of water from the mess and kicked back the pills. He wanted to rest, knew he needed to before they reached Feros, but there was work to do first. With a sigh he headed to a terminal near the sleeper pods and started inventorying tech mines and sorting through the equipment manifest looking to see if there was a recoil dampener somewhere he could equip on his pistol. A medical interface for his armor wouldn’t be a bad idea either, under the current circumstances…

“Hey.”

He looked up to find Shepard standing in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, an almost abashed look on his face. There was no trace of the wrath that had sent him careening down the mountain on Agebinium.

“Shepard,” he said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. He stepped away from the terminal and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “Need something?”

Shepard scrutinized him for a moment, his usually composed expression resembling something more like consternation. For a moment he thought Dr. Chakwas had talked to him about the impending migraine, and that Shepard was trying to find a way to break it to him he sided with the doc. But if Shepard wanted to bench him he just _would_.  

“Look, about Agebinium.”

“Liara did a hell of a job,” Kaidan said quickly.“I know my experience with other biotics is limited to humans, but damn. I’ve never seen control like that.”

Shepard inclined his chin a little. “Yeah,” he said finally. “She said she was trained, but you’re right. I didn’t expect that.”

Kaidan shook his head. “Pulled that rifle right out of that turian’s hands. You should have seen his face.” _She stopped that bullet meant for you,_ Kaidan thought. “If Lady Benezia turns out to be hiding behind an army of asari Commandos I think our odds just got a lot better.”

Shepard glanced away briefly, watching a crewman pass by on his way to the pods. “Provided she’s willing to use those skills against her own mother.”

“She’ll do fine,” Kaidan insisted. “We won’t let you down.”

After a long pause Shepard nodded, the lines at the corners of his eyes softening somewhat. “Thanks,” he said. “We reach Feros at eleven hundred.”

“I’ll be ready,” Kaidan said. Shepard left him alone, heading back towards the CIC stairs. A whiff of tomatoes reached him from the mess and he blanched.

Tick, tick, tick…


	18. Caeli Pontem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the brief hiatus. Weekly posting resuming as normal!

Though thick whorls of clouds reared dozens of ancient, crumbling skyscrapers, all blistered porous by Feros’ caustic, dust-choked winds. The remnants of a sophisticated skyway system still connected them like concrete ribbons, some eroded to ruin while others remained staunchly intact. Below the clouds the surface was smothered in a tumult of debris and collapsed masonry where over the course of 50,000 years the foundations of the prothean city had gradually and sometimes violently given way. A permanent malaise of grit churned above the ruin, worming its way into every nook and crack of the still-standing architecture, scraping it raw. 

The sheer vastness of the dead city, blanketing two thirds of the planet’s landmass, formed a staggering sight as the _Normandy_ skimmed through the atmosphere on its way to the coordinates for Zhu’s Hope, a small port colony that provided access to ExoGeni’s main headquarters. The skeletal peaks that greeted them, some crumbled, some shorn, some merely hollowed shells, stood the hair on Shepard’s neck on end. Against his will he found himself imagining faces in the abandoned windows, looking out and up in surprise and wonder as the sky blackened and living steel descended. 

He shifted his feet and straightened his posture a little, thankful that Williams, Garrus and Joker were focused on the view outside the cockpit shutters. 

“So where the hell is this colony supposed to be if there isn’t room on the ground?” Williams asked, arching a doubtful eyebrow as she leaned over Joker’s seat. Joker swatted at her, the third time by Shepard’s count, for invading his personal space. 

“It’s in one of the skyscrapers,” Shepard replied, diverting his gaze to one of the navigation panels. Garrus, who had crammed himself into the conn beside Joker, flicked a mandible. 

“A skyscraper,” she said dubiously. “Kind of hard to grow crops in a skyscraper.”

“Rooftop hydroponics,” Joker supplied, not without a hint of smugness. “That’s how the protheans did it, anyway.”

“Joker, I’m impressed,” Shepard said with an easy smile, some of his unease retreating back to the same dark place where Elanos Haliat currently resided. 

Joker waved a carefree hand. “Contrary to popular belief I occasionally read beyond the extranet’s morbid celebrity highlights.” 

“That’s a lot classier than what _I_ thought you did on the extranet,” Williams said with a roll of her eye.

He flung a dramatic hand across his chest. “Ash. That hurts.” 

“Any sign of the geth?” Shepard cut in. 

“Negative,” Joker replied. “There’s a lot of interference, though. I’m guessing we have drop ships somewhere in the area. Whatever dropped ‘em off is no longer in orbit, but ten credits says they’ll be back.”

“Unless they already got what they wanted and split,” Williams mused. Shepard glanced at her. He’d thought the same thing, just opted not to say it aloud. 

“Can you raise the colony?” 

Joker shook his head. “Been trying since we entered the system. Here’s hoping whatever passes for a docking bay in a place like this is intact. If not, guess we need to see if the _Normandy_ stocks parachutes.” 

“I’m reading power signatures near the coordinates,” Garrus spoke up. “They’re low and fluctuating, but there. Something’s still intact.” 

“Look,” Williams said, once again pointing over Joker’s shoulder. He raised his hand for another rebuke, but stopped halfway. 

Smoke billowed from two of the ancient prothean spires in thick, malignant plumes, originating from a gaping orange glow like an open sore. Shepard felt every muscle in his body tighten. 

“Find a place to dock,” Shepard ordered. “One way or another we’re getting into that colony.”

“Yes, sir,” Joker said with a brusque nod. 

“Williams, Garrus. Suit up. I want everyone at the airlock ready to go as soon as we arrive.” 

~

The Zhu’s Hope docking bay was a cramped, small opening delved into the side of the tower. The _Normandy’s_ size nearly exceeded its capacity, resulting in a rather snippy argument between Joker and Pressly about safe clearance margins. While the docking bay had somehow survived thus far intact, Joker had been forced to bring them in without tower control. If there was anyone alive in the colony, they were frustratingly silent. 

Shepard thought Pressly might have a stroke as Joker serenely guided the sleek ship into the narrow confines of the bay, whistling cheekily throughout the process. 

Now Shepard waited impatiently for the airlock to cycle, rolling his shoulders and hearing the joints of his new Titan armor creak. Anderson had made good on his word to get Shepard better equipment. They’d rendezvoused with a supply ship before making the relay jump and taken on crates of new weaponry and armor, including a new Duelist hardsuit for Williams. She hadn’t been thrilled to be wearing something made by ERCS, arguing that turians would have no idea how to make human armor, but Shepard was pretty sure the first time it turned a bullet without so much as a ripple she’d change her tune. If there was one thing turians knew how to prepare for it was getting shot at. __

Joker’s voice filtered over the comm as the airlock cycle completed. _“Commander, thought I’d let you know that whatever signal interference was blocking Zhu’s Hope is now blocking us, too. So if you were planning to send a greeting card to the Council it’s going to have to wait until this gets figured out.”_

“Noted,” Shepard replied, raising his new Raptor pattern assault rifle as the airlock doors slid open. No geth had been detected in the immediate vicinity, but Shepard wasn’t taking any chances.

The interior of the snug docking bay was eerily silent. Dust granules hung in the air, occasionally catching the light of the hot sun like tiny prisms. A stale, aged odor hung in the air. There was no one to greet them, no sign that anyone, including the geth, had noticed their arrival. 

Shepard’s eye twitched. “Williams and Tali, you’re with me. The rest of you stay here until we’ve scouted out ahead a little. If you hear gunfire, get your asses in gear. Got it?”

Alenko eyed Wrex somewhat warily. “Yes, sir.” 

Williams and Tali crept silently behind him, the debris littering the ramp crunching under their boots.Joker’s scans insisted the bay was structurally sound, but numerous cracks spidering the antiquated stone pylons and arcing up into the ceiling made him wonder how accurate those scans might be. 

They followed the ramps to the main entrance of the colony, which was beset with makeshift barricades and a row of guns that were universally pointed in their direction. 

“Got your six,” Williams said softly from behind him. 

Behind each gun barrel was a frayed and battered colonist, six total, all with red, bleary eyes that spoke of stim pack overuse. Their clothes were rumpled, dirty, and in some cases singed. The look in their eyes reminded Shepard uncomfortably of his men on Torfan right before everything went straight to hell. These people were waiting for death to swoop out of the sky and carry them off kicking and screaming. 

“We’re here to help,” Shepard said, making a show of lowering his weapons and gesturing for his squad to do the same. Williams hissed through her teeth but complied. 

“Who are you?” a short, blonde woman challenged. The barrel of her gun weaved a little, then snapped back to the center of Shepard’s forehead. 

“We’re with the Alliance,” Shepard called back. _Well,_ he thought, _some of us anyway._

Skepticism reined with the woman, but undeniable relief spread through the others. An exhausted middle-aged man lowered his weapon and stood. “You’re not geth. That’s all I care about.” Amidst mild protests he strode forward and offered his hand. “David Al Talaqani,” he said. “Thank God you’re here. Are there more of you?” 

Shepard shook his head “I have more members of my team waiting with my ship, but if you mean a platoon, then no. We got the call and came here as quick as we could. What’s the situation?”

Al Talaqani tried to conceal his disappointment. “They hit us about two weeks ago. No warning. We got a distress call from the ExoGeni building, then lost all contact. Then geth started coming up from the basement, from the skyway…from _everywhere._ They found passages in a day that we hadn’t in a year.”

Shepard scowled. “How many? What do they want?” 

He shook his head wearily. “Don’t know. We’ve been too busy trying to fence them out to worry about what they want. We’re almost out of stims and out of men. There were a lot more of us a few days ago.” 

Shepard’s eyes drifted over them, taking in their worn but dogged faces, saw the approaching knell of defeat even if they had thus far refused to acknowledge it. He wondered to himself how many on Mindoir had felt the same way.

“Take him to Fai Dan,” the woman said with a sigh and heavy wave of her hand. “He’ll have more answers than we do and he’ll want to see them anyway.”

“Macha –”

“We got this for now,” she said. “Just go. When you come back I need to get back on the aqueduct.” 

Al Talaqani nodded, then gestured for Shepard and his team to follow. 

Shepard angled his head and spoke into his comm. “Alenko, we’re clear over here. Bring everyone in. These people need some help.” He paused before following. “We have a krogan with us,” he warned them. “Don’t be alarmed.” 

They gazed at him with detached expressions. He seriously doubted anything would turn a hair at this point, but no sense in taking chances.

The colony of Zhu’s Hope, whatever it had been before the geth, was now little more than wreckage. It occupied one of the upper levels of a skyscraper that was deliberately exposed to open air, making them an easy target. A few modular shacks remained standing, but it looked like the bulk of the colony had focused their defenses around a wrecked Kowloon class freighter that now served as their primary shelter. The ship’s metallic hide was pocked with dents and scorch marks where the geth had tried and failed to breach it.

A long cylindrical aqueduct snaked past them as they approached the freighter, a tool case and diagnostic equipment strewn around an attached control panel. Shepard gave the unattended screen a cursory glance, enough to tell him that there was no water flowing. As Al Talaqani escorted them to the freighter doors, other colonists regarded them with wary but hopeful expressions.

Inside the freighter Shepard spotted makeshift triage centers in the ship’s former crew quarters and storage compartments. Several of the cots were occupied as flustered colonists moved back and forth trying to lend aid. Shepard doubted any of them were trained medics. 

They found Fai Dan, a short man of average build, standing just beyond the aft entrance to the freighter going over a manifest with a dark skinned, exotic looking woman. They both looked up when Shepard appeared, Dan with interest and the woman with a severe, mistrustful expression. 

Fai Dan looked like the kind of man who had aged prematurely, and not necessarily because of the geth. Shepard had seen his type before. Dan was a colonist, in the truest sense of the word, a pioneer who looked out over the expanse of a savage, alien world and strode bravely into it. Shepard’s father had been the same way. Without those kinds of men the Alliance would never have left Earth, but that unconquerable spirit was not without consequence. Shepard’s father had looked the way Fai Dan did now, his young face carved with lines that should have been years away, skin parched and roughened by alien winds. Hannah Shepard had fought off the rigors of colonial life with corrective enhancements, never having fully embraced the pioneer life. She had worried incessantly, following Shepard’s father to Mindoir out of sheer love. But her husband had embraced everything about Mindoir and the dangers that came with it, proud of the marks it left on him. Shepard wondered if somewhere away from the threat of the geth Dan felt the same way. 

“I’m Commander Shepard,” he said, offering his hand. “We’re here to help.” 

Fai Dan took his hand, a bit reluctantly, a brief expression crossing his face that might have been a scowl. Shepard took note of it but did not comment.

“Is it just you?” the woman demanded. “You’re all that was sent? After we lost six men just trying to send the distress call?” 

“That’s enough, Arcelia,” Dan said tiredly. “We’ll take all the help we can get.” He offered Shepard a weak smile. “We’re very glad to have you, Commander. David, thanks for your help. You can go back to your post.” 

Al Talaqani nodded and left. On his way back, he nearly ran into Wrex, who was exiting the freighter with Alenko, Liara and Garrus. Shepard could hear the collective suspension of breath as everyone took in the krogan. Wrex cast them all an irritated look, then stood aside and gestured for Al Talaqani to pass. 

“You have an odd choice of companions, Commander,” Dan said, his tone carefully neutral.

“Do you know why the geth are here?” 

Dan shook his head, gaze still lingering on Wrex. “They hit the ExoGeni building first, then made their way here. I think they want control of the port. They keep hitting us from different points, every few hours. The last one was about two hours ago, so we’re due again soon.” He turned the full weight of his gaze to Shepard. For a moment the pioneer was gone, replaced by something pleading and desperate. “My men are tired, to the point of exhaustion. I don’t think we can hold out much longer.”

Shepard scanned the area quickly and carefully, with both his eyes and his omnitool. “Where are they coming from?” 

Dan rubbed a thumb against the perspiration on his forehead, leaving a smudge of dirt behind. “Everywhere,” he said with a sigh. “We’ve sealed off the skyway so they stop hitting us from there. It’s the most direct route to ExoGeni, and they could hit us from above on the stairs. But they’re also in the tunnels below. There are access points all over, many we didn’t even know were there until the geth ambushed us.” He gritted his teeth. “They shut off the aqueducts a few days ago. I think they’re using them to move around. Our water supply is almost dry.” 

“This doesn’t help us get Saren,” Wrex interrupted, pushing forward to stand beside Shepard. 

“Saren?” Dan asked, confusion crossing his features. “Who’s Saren?”

Shepard exhaled through his nose. “He’s a rouge Spectre, working with the geth. We came after the geth hoping to find him here.”

“I knew they weren’t here for us,” Arcelia snapped, running a frustrated hand through her cropped dark hair. “Probably ExoGeni, protecting their damned investment!” 

“I’m not with ExoGeni,” Shepard said patiently, mentally swearing at Wrex for making things more complicated. “I need to find out why the geth are here, but I also mean to offer assistance.”

Arcelia’s baleful gaze did not soften, but Dan seemed beyond caring about motivation. 

“The geth are here for something,” Shepard prodded. “You help me figure out what they want, and I’ll make sure you get all the help you need.”

Dan and Arcelia exchanged glances, and again Shepard caught hint of an odd, shared reluctance. The hairs on the back of his neck raised, and he found himself calculating the speed at which he could draw and discharge his pistol. 

“What authority do you have to promise us assistance, _Commander_ ,” Arcelia scoffed, but there was less vitriol this time. She looked more like a woman realizing she was on the brink of defeat. 

“More than you think,” Shepard said quietly. “I’m a Council Spectre.”

“Spectre?” she said, genuinely surprised this time. “A human Spectre?” 

“Yes.” He did not elaborate, and she did not ask. 

Dan sighed heavily. “I don’t know what the geth want from us. But whatever it is, you’re more likely to find it at the ExoGeni building than you are here. That’s where the drop ships are. But if you want to head there you’re on your own. I’ve lost enough men.” 

Shepard nodded, though he didn’t believe that Fai Dan was as clueless about the geth’s intentions as he claimed. “I don’t expect your help. Just tell me how to get there. We won’t put any of your people in more danger.”

Dan waved behind him, where the open atrium became a covered stairwell. “There’s elevator access to the skyway from the upper levels. Before the geth came it was intact, but I don’t know what shape it’s in now. The access doors out of the garage are locked down, and I intend to keep them that way. If we open them to let you through, we’ll lock them down behind you.”

“Noted,” Shepard replied. “Alenko, Liara. Stay here and do what you can to help the colony. The rest of you are with me.” He activated his comm. “Joker!”

“ _Aye, sir.”_

“You and Pressly need to find a way to deploy the Mako. We’re heading up the skyway.” 

~

Garrus folded inelegantly inside the cramped confines of the Mako, automatically taking the gunner’s seat in the rear and swearing under his breath as his helmet scraped rudely against the ceiling. He had to bend his neck at a horrible angle just to give himself enough room to pull it off. There was a wall behind him separating the cab from the rest of the tank, which he discovered quite painfully when his skull crest collided with it as he leaned back. The human-designed tank was _not_ hospitable to turians.

“Trouble?” Williams asked from the row of perpendicular seats behind the cab that were designed for infantry deployment. Wrex settled in across from her. 

“Fine,” Garrus muttered, adjusting his posture as best he could. He hoped Dr. Chakwas knew something about realigning turian neck bones, because he was pretty sure he’d need it after this. 

He could not help but notice how quickly the human strapped herself in, and recalled the relief on both Alenko and Liara’s face when they realized they were being left behind. He, too, reached for his seat restraint.

Shepard had the wheel. Tali sat next to him updating the Mako’s scanners with her latest geth intel. 

“Dan, we’re set and ready to go,” Shepard said through the comm. “Open the doors.” 

Dan’s reply came through bursts of static. “ _Once y……ear the doors…..cations will be c….ff. Goo….ck.”_

“Copy that,” Shepard muttered, closing the channel. 

Garrus gazed out of the Mako’s slanted windshield as Shepard powered up the eezo core. The garage compartment was closed in by a heavy concrete door about 90 centimeters thick. Dan was right about one thing, once they got out they weren’t getting back in by force.

“Tali, see anything on radar?”

She made a thoughtful sound that Garrus was beginning to learn was something she did while processing information. He heard it a lot in engineering. “Hard to get anything through those doors,” she reported. “Too much interference. My guess is that we’ll run into some trouble on the skyway. I just won’t know how much until we get out there.” 

“Lovely,” Williams muttered from the back. 

Shepard cracked his knuckles, a disturbing sound that made Garrus shudder. “Garrus, get the guns ready.” 

Music to his ears. Garrus immediately began poking around the controls. He’s been memorizing the specs almost as soon as he’d laid eyes on the Mako, and now on his very first spin he’d be manning the weapons’ systems. Turreted 155m mass accelerator cannon, coaxial machine gun, laser detection arrays, and micro-thrusters for high maneuverability...it was enough to make him salivate. He’d already designed some software upgrades that would facilitate better communication between the nav and weapons systems for more accurate mobile targeting, but there hadn’t been time to implement them yet. He established a link between the Mako’s targeting system and transferred the data feed to his HUD, preening in satisfaction when the turret rotated in sync with his visor. 

The concrete doors began to creep slowly open. 

“Let’s hope our little friend from Therum doesn’t make another appearance,” Williams said. 

“I hope it does,” Tali said, her voice taking on a steely tone Garrus hadn’t heard before. “We have our own cannon this time.” 

Shepard eased the Mako forward through the widening doors. The ancient prothean skyway rolled away from them towards another behemoth tower – presumably their destination. The right side of the road curled gently to form a solid, concave wall that probably housed sentry and control stations. To the left however there was only a moderate lip between them and the dizzying plunge to the planet’s surface. As the Mako rolled across the threshold onto the skyway Garrus’s plates tightened, waiting for the concrete to disintegrate under their weight. It didn’t. He exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. 

The Mako ground its way over the concrete, the scattered detritus making for a rough ride. When they cleared the tower Feros’ angry winds lashed against the tank, forcing Shepard to abruptly adjust. Garrus’ stomach plummeted to the vicinity of his feet.

Tali feverishly worked her haptic screen. “I see a drop ship,” she reported. “It’s…hmmm.” Her head tilted left. “It’s attached to the ExoGeni complex.” 

“Just one?” Shepard asked. “And what do you mean _attached_?” 

She pointed at her screen. “I mean it’s somehow latched onto the building itself. One is all I see for now. I’m still scanning.” Her breath hitched slightly. “Shepard, I’m reading a pocket of geth up ahead.” She glanced behind her in Williams’ direction. “Armatures.” 

Instead of the cool retort Garrus expected, Williams’ expression became downright devious. “All yours, Tali. Get the bastards.” 

“Garrus,” Tali said. “I’m sending you some schematics we got on Therum. The armatures have vulnerable points near the leg joints and between the shoulder plates. Think you can hit them?” 

“On it,” Garrus said, accepting the data transfer. A visual of a geth armature sprang to life in his HUD, with indicators on the locations she’d mentioned. Garrus added the data to his targeting parameters.

“How much damage can this tank take?” Wrex rumbled. 

Shepard grinned. “Plenty.” 

Garrus could see them now through the windshield, but kept his focus on his HUD. Two armatures were standing guard over the skyway, flanked by two squads of geth infantry and a single squad of rocket troopers. An alert from Tali brought his attention to a rifle team that had perched themselves at the top of the rampart on the skyway’s right curve. 

“They see us,” Tali warned. 

Garrus locked on to the armature with the cannon, honing in on one of the shoulder plates Tali had flagged. “Fire in the hole!” 

A mass effect powered slug hummed through the air, striking the armature right in the cleft where its shoulder plate met the undercarriage. It buckled, swayed, feet splaying madly to keep from toppling.

A red flash appeared on Garrus’ HUD. “Incoming!” he shouted.

The Mako slewed hard to the left. Shepard engaged the thrusters and propelled the tank upwards, literally jumping _above_ the armature’s projectile. When they hit the ground again the front two tires hooked over the edge of the skyway, filling the windshield with nothing but clouds. Garrus sucked in a breath and braced himself, one talon pressed against a wall, the other to the left of his seat. Every plate on his body locked tight, as if it would make a difference when they went spiraling over the edge into oblivion. 

Shepard gunned the engine in reverse, and firm stone of the skyway replaced the sickening weave of the horizon. 

The geth were still firing, hammering the Mako’s shields with high impact charges that sent a crackling hiss through the emitters. 

“Garrus, dammit, _shoot_ something!” Shepard shouted. 

Garrus took in another breath, adrenaline still pumping madly through his body. The next round was ready to go in the cannon but the field was still recharging, so he swung the machine gun around and pumped bullets at the bipedal geth advancing towards them. Two rocket troopers toppled, and Tali uttered a victorious yell. 

“Not yet, there’s still two armatures shooting at us,” Shepard said through clenched teeth. 

Garrus switched his targeting information from the machine gun to the cannon, locked on to the damaged armature and fired. The round left the chamber with a whoosh, knocking the armature backwards into a hopeless tangle of legs, metal and sparking cables. 

“One down!” he cried out, already back to the machine gun as the next round shunted into the chamber and began to charge. This time he zeroed on the snipers and chewed through their shields. 

A klaxon wailed as the remaining armature fired again. This time Shepard jagged the Mako right, then hit the brakes and swung the front of the tank nearly 180° to keep from colliding with the wall. 

“Garrus, how’s that cannon charge?” Shepard demanded. 

The high whine of the mass accelerator charge hit fever pitch. “Ready,” Garrus called back.

“We’re taking this thing down with one shot, got it?” 

“Last one needed two,” Garrus said tersely, looking for a better targeting solution but knowing he wouldn’t find it if Tali hadn’t. 

“We’re going to make it one,” Shepard insisted. “Hit the machine gun. On my mark, fire the cannon. Maintain target lock no matter what.”

Garrus’a mandibles flared. “Yes, sir.” 

Without warning Shepard accelerated sharply, tires squealing in protest. The Mako hurtled towards the remaining armature. Garrus’ eyes widened when he realized what Shepard meant to do – take out as much of its shields as they could, deploying the cannon at the precise moment that would cause the most damage while not shredding themselves from the blowback in the process. 

The machine gun sprayed bullets as Shepard weaved, trying to avoid target lock. Problem was that made it harder for Garrus to do the same thing. He stuck to it gamely, trying to anticipate Shepard’s movements and surprised when it worked. As soon as they got back to the _Normandy_ he vowed to find a way to speed up the servos controlling the coaxial gun so it could better keep up with his helmet feed. 

With the gun still firing he geared up the cannon shot. 

“Fire!” Shepard bellowed. 

They were moving fast – too fast. The Mako’s scope couldn’t compensate quick enough, and for half a breath the extra magnification cost him his bearings. 

_“Now!”_

The scope adjusted and Garrus jammed the fire button. The cannon boomed, blowing a hole right through the armature. Shrapnel sliced through the Mako’s shields and one of Tali’s screens immediately displayed a schematic of the tank with several forward hull plates started blinking red. The tank jolted as it rolled right over the armature’s smoldering carcass, and Garrus’ head struck the roof with a plate-rattling clatter. 

“Negative contacts,” Tali said breathlessly. 

They coasted to a stop. Garrus slumped in his seat, exhaling fully. Shepard sat motionless just long enough for Garrus to panic before he finally exhaled and looked around. Tali had already set herself to running diagnostics on the damaged plating. 

“Everyone all right?” Shepard asked. There was a chorus of nods. Garrus looked over his shoulder to see Williams and Wrex still in one piece, though the chief’s normally peach-colored skin was now a pale, sickly white. Even Wrex looked a little queasy.

“Garrus, what happened?” Shepard asked, rolling his neck a little. 

“Um, sorry sir. The scope got stuck.”

“Wait a second.” Shepard cocked his head to the side. “This thing has a _scope_?” 

Garrus flicked a mandible, not sure if Shepard was making a joke at his expense. “Of course it has a scope. Why wouldn’t it have a scope?” 

Shepard shrugged a shoulder. Garrus settled back in his seat a little. Did he really know more about the Alliance tank than the Alliance CO? It made him kind of proud.

Garrus heard the click of a seat restraint, and suddenly Wrex’s massive head pushed past him as the krogan muscled into the cab. “Do that again, Shepard, and I’ll cut off your balls and feed them to the turian.” 

Garrus gulped. Shepard actually _grinned._

“Tali, are we still mobile?” 

She made that sound again, the ‘collating data’ sound. “Front axle is damaged and shield capacity is at 63%,” she reported. “But the repairs can wait. We need to get off this bridge.”

“Agreed,” Shepard muttered.

“There’s a way station ahead,” she said helpfully. “If the geth haven’t taken control of it we can assess the damage better there.” 

Shepard put the Mako in drive again, glancing over his shoulder at Garrus. “Don’t worry, buddy. You’ll get it right next time.” 

Garrus’ plates shifted indignantly. “Does the Mako have a scope,” he muttered, shaking his head. He caught Shepard’s grin reflected on the windshield. 

 

* * *


	19. Insolitus

There was something strange going on in Zhu’s Hope.

Kaidan wiped the sweat from his brow, squinting at the readouts on the aqueduct’s access panel. “I still can’t get remote access to the power core,” he said, straightening up and leaning against the concrete tube with a frustrated sigh. “Every time I find a way past one firewall I run into another one.” He massaged his neck, trying not to think about what the stiffness there was telling him. 

Macha Doyle, the woman they’d met at the barricade, offered him a condescending smirk. “I told you.”

Liara’s eyes widened a little and she coughed quickly into her hand. Kaidan ground his teeth in an effort to hold his tongue. He considered getting on the comm and telling Joker to send a team out to collect the water rations they’d just unloaded and take them right back to the damn cargo bay. Never could he have imagined a group of people this desperate could be so _obstinate._

An offer of food rations from the _Normandy_ had earned a scoff and declaration that the solution was temporary and therefore not helpful. The low level technician – the highest one still alive – in charge of the colony’s power supply was completely uninterested in finding a way to adapt power cells from the _Normandy_ to be compatible with the colony’s generators. It would take up too much time and resources, she’d said. It had taken a touch on the arm from Liara to keep from wringing her neck and screaming that they could just go on working in the dark and see if he cared. 

The ticking clock in his head continued its countdown. In some ways he was glad he at least experienced a prodrome phase. It gave him time to prepare. The special cases when the migraines arrived unannounced was a special kind of hell. Only once had it happened in a shore party, when he was serving on the _Gallipoli._ They had boarded a ship that had been taken hostage by slavers. In the ensuing firefight a salarian had hit him with a neural shock, every nerve in his body seizing with an agonizing electrical burst. The explosion of pain had been bad enough, but before the effects had faded enough to even pick himself up off the floor his vision had already been punctured by the all too familiar scotoma, followed almost immediately by waves of pain even more extraordinary than he was accustomed to. It was not an experience he was anxious to repeat. 

Still, while prodrome had some advantages, it was also like working with a noose slowly tightening around his neck. The constant dread of the inevitable made the wait excruciating, working every last nerve ending until it was exposed and raw. 

Swallowing his anger he smiled thinly at Doyle. “I don’t think it’s prothean technology that’s blocking us,” he said. “My guess is that the geth have found the primary controls and shut down remote access.”

Doyle crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow, her posture screaming a callous, _So?_

“If I can find primary access I might be able to bypass the blocks and get the water moving again,” he said patiently. 

The woman’s features creased as the veneer cracked a little, momentarily allowing the panic to bleed through. “There are geth all over the tunnels,” she said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “We can’t go down there.” 

He took in a deep breath. Right now fighting the geth sounded like shore leave. “I’m not asking you to—”

“Lieutenant?” 

Kaidan looked up to see the slender form of Dr. Chakwas standing before them, medical bag slung over her shoulder. Greta Reynolds, one of the colonists manning the barricade near the _Normandy,_ was with her as an escort. 

“Thank God,” Kaidan exhaled, glad for the distraction. “Excuse me,” he said pointedly to Doyle. Her dismissive pretense had snapped back into place, and she waved him away. Greta said nothing and returned to the barricade. 

Dr. Chakwas tilted her head in silent question, which Kaidan answered with an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Stooping to grab the helmet resting at his feet he gestured for her to follow and headed towards the _Borealis_ , the crashed freighter now serving as the colony’s refuge. Liara came with them, glancing over her shoulder as though she expected someone to be following them. 

“How are you?” Chakwas asked, scrutinizing him critically once they were out of earshot. 

“Fine,” he said irritably.

Chakwas narrowed her eyes. “Turn around.”

“What?”

She sighed, affixing him with a look he usually only got from his mother. “I’m authorizing a medical override of your hardsuit and programming your medical interface to provide your triptan dose at onset,” she explained. 

Feeling somewhat sheepish, Kaidan obliged. A red medical cross flashed on his HUD as Chakwas unsealed the panel that provided access to the interface’s microprocessor. “I’ve uploaded several of the scans I have on file to help the interface detect abnormal brain activity,” she informed him. “Once it does, the dermal injector will administer the dose. Hopefully it will minimize the damage.” She closed the panel, which resealed with an audible click. 

“Thanks, Doc,” he said, turning back around.

She gave him a knowing look. “Contrary to popular belief, doctors do usually have your best interests at heart. Now,” she said, swiftly transitioning to the problem at hand. “I’ve inventoried blankets and basic medical supplies. Servicemen Pakti and Dubyansky are bringing them ashore as soon as they’re assembled.”

“Good luck,” Kaidan replied. “They’ll probably just tell you it’s not as helpful as teaching them to make their own blankets.” 

She raised an austere eyebrow. 

“This is a weird group, Doc,” he explained. “It’s like they don’t want help.” 

That wasn’t quite right. Of course they wanted help. But somehow by offering it they were intruding, like they’d committed some utterly taboo offense that no one was willing to speak up about. 

Near the entrance to the freighter they came across a woman of Asian descent arguing with a salarian, one of the only non-human colonists in Zhu’s Hope. He’d been introduced to Kaidan as Ledra, a merchant who’d originally arrived on the _Borealis._ Dan had tapped him to be the unwilling attaché between the colony and the _Normandy_ , coordinating the supply delivery. He was a sour faced creature, even more so than the average salarian, and he was currently on the receiving end of a verbal beating from the woman. As they approached, she threw her hands up in disgust and walked away, but not before spotting Liara and giving her a long, hard look. 

The salarian watched them sullenly, also Kaidan noted, seeming to take particular notice of Liara. And they weren’t the only ones. It seemed several colonists had taken an interest in the presence of the asari scientist. 

“What do you want?” Ledra demanded in a sharp, nasal voice. 

Kaidan saw Chakwas’ shoulders stiffen. “See?” he muttered. Then to the salarian, “This is Dr. Chakwas, our ship’s doctor. She’s here to help your wounded.” 

The salarian blinked, eyelids slicking shut from below, and his overlarge, dark eyes became wary. “Hollis is in charge of that. I just handle supplies.” 

Kaidan thought about asking him about the woman he’d been arguing with and if everyone was all right, decided it would be pointless, and just kept walking.

Inside the freighter cots had been set up for the wounded, though there were surprisingly few injuries to deal with. The geth shot to kill, and AIs didn’t often miss. Hollis Blake, an elderly man who before the geth had worked on the now-destroyed hydroponics, served as the de facto medic. 

“How can I help?” Chakwas said after introducing herself. “I have plenty of supplies at my disposal.”

He shook his head, sitting down on an empty cot in the hallway. “Most of it’s burns and lacerations right now. No need to trouble yourself, Doctor. I think I can handle it.” 

She pulled out a hand-held bioscanner. “If I were to guess, you’ve been running on nothing but stims for several days. Why don’t you let me—” She stopped in surprise as Hollis reached out and closed a hand over the scanner, lowering it gently but forcefully. There was a thin smile on his face that made Kaidan’s skin crawl. 

“Of course, you’re right. We’re all tired. We just—”

A weak voice called out from a sealed room to their left. “Hollis?”

A pained look crossed his face. “Excuse me for a moment.” 

He clearly did not want them to follow when he opened the door, but Chakwas set her jaw, pushed a stray lock of her silver hair behind her ear and strode in after him. Kaidan was quickly learning she had a Shepard-like determination when it came to her patients. Anyone who could deal with Joker as readily as she could deserved recognition. 

Inside the small room were more cots, one occupied by an older woman. Hollis knelt beside her, clasping one hand tenderly in his gnarled fingers. Chakwas, scanner still in hand, came up behind him. 

“What do you need, dear?” Hollis asked.

“I can’t—” She stopped suddenly when her gaze drifted to the newcomers, her expression filling with dismay. “Who are they?” 

“They’re here to help fight the geth, Calantha,” he said gently. 

Her eyes lingered on Liara, then came to rest on the scanner in Chakwas’ hands. Hollis followed her gaze, his eyes widening when he saw it. He dropped Calantha’s hand and reached for the scanner, which Chakwas held out of his reach. “I need to get accurate information in order to help her,” she argued. 

The woman cried out suddenly, face contorting in pain. Chakwas tried to shoulder past him, but to Kaidan’s surprise she was rebuffed. Hollis was stronger than he looked. 

“Please,” he begged. “Leave us be. My wife will be fine. She just needs rest. The last attack was… hard for her.” 

“Hard how?” Liara asked, voice threaded with suspicion. “She does not appear to be physically injured.”

The freighter shook. Calantha cried out again. 

“Geth,” Hollis said, voice filled with dread. 

With a soft swear Kaidan turned away from the strange couple, swiftly donning his helmet and consulting his HUD. Liara did the same, corona flaring to life with a bright flicker. Angry red dots swarmed his combat scanner in the direction Shepard had taken. He drew his pistol.

“Stay here,” he told Chakwas. The doctor nodded. The furrows on her brow deepened, but her expression remained calm. He signaled to Liara, and the two of them dashed down the _Borealis’_ main corridor towards the aft exit. His amp hummed as he probed the negative pressure around him, arm rippling with biotic energy. Any display would only hasten the inevitable, but maybe, just maybe with the triptan dosage queued and ready, it wouldn’t be so bad. 

“Ready for this?” he asked the asari. After Agebinium he didn’t doubt her capabilities, but it would be her first encounter with the geth after Therum. 

She nodded, her expression grim. 

Outside the _Borealis_ Fai Dan and Marcelia were frantically gathering reinforcements near the barricades they’d established by stairwell. One colonist lay dead in a puddle of blood and gore, half his skull missing where a sniper bullet had turned the bone to shards of confetti. 

Kaidan took cover beside Fai Dan, whose hands gripped a pistol with black scorch marks around the casing, signs of continuous, heedless overheat without proper cleaning and maintenance. He was willing to bet even the ammo block was dangerously low. Arcelia wasn’t much better off. She had an ancient looking Lancer that looked like it might have come from the First Contact war.

The quick flash of several red lights danced along the barricade. 

_Snipers!_

Kaidan barely had time to suck in a breath before Liara stepped forward out of cover, inhaling deeply and flexing her wrists. Her corona flared, so bright that for a moment he lost her silhouette inside of it entirely, before a wall of biotic energy surged from her like a tidal wave. It swept past them to the front of the barricade, where it solidified into a glistening, protective bubble. Seconds later four slugs clanged off with sharp clinks, each sending ripples through the blue sheen of the barrier like a stone thrown into a pond. 

Kaidan had heard of asari protective spheres, but he had never seen one. The power they required was far above what even his L2 implant could provide, and he could only imagine the concentration and control it would take to maintain one. Liara, however, was doing it easily. Her expression was focused but untroubled, feet planted in a runner’s stance with her hands stretched in front of her, blue energy weaving through her splayed fingers. This close to the spectacular display Kaidan’s nerves sang, feeling the tumult in the gravity well the asari manipulated with ease.

There was no time to admire it, however. 

“Everyone get down!” Kaidan barked, fishing a grenade out of his pouch and swiftly programming the charge. The stairwell where the geth were coming from was the same Shepard had used to reach the skyway, but if Kaidan were to guess it looked like they were coming from below rather than above. Fai Dan and Macha Doyle had mentioned tunnels, and earlier scans by his omnitool had indicated there was an entire network of them on the lower levels of the skyscraper. 

He’d worry about how many were below them in a minute. For now he had to clean out the snipers that had migrated to higher ground. “Liara, can you draw them out of cover with a singularity?” 

A tremor ran through the biotic field as her concentrations shifted, but it held. “I’ll have to drop the barrier,” she warned. 

“Do it,” he said tersely, hoping like hell he wouldn’t regret it. 

Liara closed her hands into fists and lowered her arms, collapsing the barrier inwards with a rush. But instead of dissipating completely the biotic energy condensed into a sphere cupped in the palm of her hand. 

Kaidan pitched his grenade towards the stairs, aiming to create enough of a distraction to allow Liara to snare them with the vortex. It detonated with a shower of sparks that ricocheted off the dull, brown concrete of the stairs, searing across Kaidan’s corneas in a coruscating pattern of light. He shut his eyes against the sudden pain. A tingle of dark energy pricked his skin as Liara’s singularity field left her hand and sailed towards the geth. He forced his eyes back open in time to see the dark edges of the event horizon expand, swallowing light and greedily sucking in a tempest of dust, debris and geth. Three metal bodies dangled helplessly at the outer fringes of the field, one falling into the event horizon with a dissonant squeal. Kaidan summoned his own biotic field and aimed it at the heart of the singularity, just like he’d done on Agebinium. 

Before he could let it go he staggered backwards as a slug hit him square in the chest, the impact sapping his shields with a sudden, seething hiss. He flew backward, breath driven from his lungs and pistol skittering across the ground. An alarm in his suit wailed, alerting him that his shields were completely down and unable to recharge.

He rolled over on his side, desperately sucking oxygen back into his lungs. Dimly he was aware of Liara running to him, and the red sight swinging to and fro before coming to rest on the back of her skull as she knelt down in front of him. With one arm he pushed her aside, executing a mnemonic that summoned a new well of dark energy. The geth saw the incoming danger and dropped the barrel of its rifle to evade. Kaidan grabbed Liara’s pistol from her holster, summoned every ounce of processing power in his targeting software and fired, pegging the geth sniper right in the light orb of its face. He locked on to the other two still trapped in the singularity and fired twice more, hitting one in the neck and the other in the cowling of its chest. They both sputtered, spasmed and went limp, the singularity continuing to swirl them around until its core snapped closed and dropped them in a heap on the ground. 

“Arcelia, get a team on this barricade,” Dan yelled. “I want it strengthened, now! Get Hannah over here and see what else we can strip from the _Borealis_ to block that doorway.”

“Lieutenant,” Liara said anxiously, her blue eyes wide with panic. “Are you all right?” 

Kaidan propped himself up on an elbow, focusing on drawing more air into his lungs. A quick consultation of his HUD showed his shield generator coming slowly back online. The slug hadn’t breached his suit, though he had no doubt there would be a lovely black bruise in the center of his ribcage later. 

“I’m ok,” he rasped once he had enough air back to speak, berating himself for not checking his corners better. Getting target-fixed was an amateur mistake, one that his impending migraine didn’t excuse. He handed her back her pistol, which she slid into her holster before offering her hand to help him up. He grimaced as he got back to his feet, searching the ground for his own weapon, which had come to rest about a meter away. 

Fai Dan jogged over to join them. “That was a hell of a hit.”

Kaidan grunted. “There’s more still down in those tunnels,” he said by way of reply. “I can see them on the scanner. We need to clear them out and seal off those tunnels.” 

Dan gestured helplessly. “We…don’t know how.”

Kaidan thumbed the catch on his faceplate, retracting it into his helmet with a soft snick, then pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “They’re using the aqueducts,” he said with effort. “Have to be. My guess is they’ve diverted the water so they can use them as access tunnels. Do you know where the master control unit is? I’ve made a few omnitool scans that might help me guess, but it will be easier if I can upload the colony maps.” 

“Hannah Murakami might,” Dan said. “She’s the last surviving crewmember of the _Borealis._ They did a lot of detailed scans for us a while back. I’ll tell her to give you access to whatever you need. I just…can’t offer men to accompany you.” 

“Alenko,” Liara said quietly, “are you sure you should go down there? Maybe Dr. Chakwas should—”

“I’m _fine,_ dammit.”

She clamped her mouth shut, and Kaidan immediately regretted his tone. With a glance at Fai Dan he took Liara by the arm and steered her away where they wouldn’t be overheard. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”

She returned his gaze but made no reply. 

“I get…” he sighed, hating how weak what he was about to say made him sound. “You need to know something, because I think it’s about to be really, really relevant.”

“The medical condition you were discussing with Dr. Chakwas?” she asked. 

He nodded, pulling his helmet off. A weak breeze wafted through his hair. Liara followed suit.

“I’m an L2 biotic,” he explained. “The L2 implants were not…entirely successful in humans. We have better power output than the L3s, but there are tradeoffs, to put it kindly.”

Her blue eyes reflected concern. “What kind of tradeoffs?”

“Varies,” Kaidan replied. “In the grand scheme of things I got lucky. I only have to deal with migraines. They don’t happen that often, but when they do…”

Liara nodded uneasily. 

He put a hand to his temple. “I usually know they’re coming. Lot of little symptoms. And right now I’m on the clock.” 

She nodded again, eyes widening a little. 

“We need to get down there, clear these bastards out and secure the colony.” _While I still can_ , he added silently. Liara understood. 

“I’ll find out who Hannah is and get the maps we need,” she replied. She spun on her heel and headed for Fai Dan, who Kaidan realized had been watching them. 

Or was he watching Liara? 

“Alenko to _Normandy,”_ Kaidan said into his comm, keeping his eye on the colony leader. 

The pilot responded with his usual flippancy. “ _What’s up, Alenko? Enjoying babysitting the locals?”_

“Funny,” Kaidan replied. “See if Pressly can make a few scans of the colony.”

_Looking for what?”_

“I don’t know. But something very weird is going on here.”

_“That’s…unhelpful.”_

“Just see what you can do.” 

_“All right, fine.”_

“Dr. T’Soni and I are going to try and solve a problem in the tunnels below the colony. I want an escort for Dr. Chakwas as long as she’s here.” Mentally he raced through the crew roster. “Send Dubyansky and Crosby. Any signs of trouble and they get her back to the _Normandy.”_

_“You sound awfully commanding for someone who’s not, you know. The commander.”_

Kaidan rolled his eyes. “Then clear it with Pressly if you need to. Pretty sure he doesn’t want to dig his CMO out from under a pile of geth and explain _that_ to Shepard.” 

There was a pause, which Kaidan interpreted as acquiescence. Then, “ _Alenko, how weird are we talking about?”_

Kaidan glanced back over at Fai Dan, who was pointing Liara to the starboard side of the freighter. “Dunno. But let me know if you find anything. And if you find it while we’re in those tunnels, just do what you have to do.” 

_“Look out for yourself, LT,”_ Joker said, with surprising concern for his welfare. “ _We don’t want to have to fish you out of a pile of geth and explain that to Shepard, either.”_

“Noted,” Kaidan replied. Though quite frankly, right now dealing with the colonists concerned him a hell of a lot more than dealing with the geth. 


	20. Arcana

“Spanner,” Tali asked, holding her hand out and waiting for Garrus to drop the tool into her waiting palm. With one last tug she tightened a bolt over the makeshift seal she’d constructed out of omnigel, then replaced the paneling. “Think we’re good to go.” She slid out from underneath the Mako, where Garrus waited with a proffered hand to help her to her feet. 

“Nice work,” he said. 

She brushed dust off her suit, noting a couple of oil stains on the fabric of her hood. Automatic suit checks revealed no signs of diffusion. Small favors, anyway.

“We’ll have to take a closer look at that bearing when we get back to the ship, but the axle should hold.” She glanced down the slope behind a barricade, where Shepard stood surrounded by ExoGeni survivors. One in particular gesticulated angrily, wearing a pinched, unhappy expression that looked like a natural state of being rather than a situational one. His name was Ethan Jeong, and he and Shepard had not gotten off on the right foot. Beside him, Juliana Baynham, the woman who had sent the distress call Tali had picked up, crossed her arms in front of her chest, jaw clenched in frustration. She was an older woman with tired looking skin but sharp, intelligent eyes that glinted a little every time Jeong spoke.

After escaping the ExoGeni headquarters, Jeong, Baynham and about a dozen ExoGeni scientists had bunkered down in a small warehouse room inside an ancient weigh station. After blockading the entrance with rubble and sealing the skyway doors, they had survived on whatever they could find in the seldom-used way point between Zhu’s Hope and the ExoGeni building. But those supplies were running thin. From what Tali had gleaned Baynham had finally sent the distress call, apparently against the wishes of Jeong, and Tali still couldn’t tell if they were happy to be rescued or not. 

The scientists themselves were a disparate bunch, all human, wearing red and white uniforms with the ExoGeni logo emblazoned in black on their left shoulder. But that was where the similarities ended. Age, height, build, skin tone, facial structure, hair color and texture…the genetic variance of the human race exhausted her. She had noticed it on the _Normandy_ , but to see it so clearly in even this small population took her a little off guard. Regardless of their differences, they were all weary, tired, dirty and desperate. 

Not for the first time, the ingrained shame quarians had been trying to shake off for centuries swam near the surface. _Ultimately, we are responsible for this,_ she thought _. We created the geth. We unleashed them on the galaxy. These people are suffering because of our failure._

There was no question the quarians had paid for their mistakes every day of their collective lives since being driven from Rannoch. The debt had been repaid tenfold, hundredfold. But the rest of the galaxy refused to forgive, and in moments like this, confronted by consequences, Tali understood why.

She followed Garrus down into the makeshift bunker and approached the commander, who faced Jeong with his arms crossed over his chest, blue eyes ripe with icy displeasure that lowered the temperature of the entire room. At the sight of Tali Shepard lifted his chin in silent question, while an oblivious Jeong continued vocalizing his objections to Shepard’s plans to infiltrate the ExoGeni building. She nodded, and his irritation turned to grim satisfaction.

“The headquarters is off limits to non-ExoGeni personnel,” Jeong declared.

Ashley Williams, standing to Shepard’s left, burst out laughing. “Did you tell that to the geth? How’d they take it?” 

Shepard gave her a withering look that clammed her mouth shut, but her eyes didn’t lose one ounce of their amusement. Tali felt a spark of envy. One silent rebuke from her father was usually enough to upset her for days, but self-reproach did not appear to be a quality Williams possessed. 

Jeong scowled. “My job is to protect corporate interests. And since I’m the only one left I’m damn well—”

“I’m not interested in ExoGeni’s policy,” Shepard interrupted, demeanor shifting from one of indifference to intense scrutiny. The scientist’s eyes widened, for the first time showing a hint of intimidation.

“But why would you—” 

“I’m here for the geth,” Shepard continued, fixing Jeong with the full force of his gaze. “I’m going to give you one last chance to tell me what they might be after.If you hold out on me, you will not be happy to see me when I come back through here.”

Jeong pressed his lips together in a thin line, though there was an uncertainty about him now that hadn’t been there a minute ago.Tali watched as he summoned up every last shred of his nerve to speak. “I don’t know why they’re here,” he declared. “But if I find you’ve tampered with company property, you can rest assured ExoGeni will hear about it.” 

Shepard’s eyes never left Jeong’s face, letting an uncomfortable silence hang in the air before responding. “I don’t give a damn about ExoGeni. I’m a Council Spectre. My jurisdiction exceeds theirs by depths you can’t even fathom.”

Jeong cringed. 

Shepard turned to walk away. Baynham touched his arm, an anxious look on her face. Shepard’s cold expression vanished immediately. At her request Shepard followed her off to the side, where she clutched his arm and whispered frantically. 

“Amazing how people this close to the brink can be so damn picky about help,” Williams observed with a roll of her eyes. “Pretty sure if the geth had me backed into a corner like this I’dkiss whoever showed up to do something about it right on the mouth.” She flicked some dust off her hardsuit. “Besides, it’s not like ExoGeni is coming to rescue their sorry asses. If _they_ don’t care enough about their investment, why the hell should these people?”

Wrex, who had been standing apart from the others throughout Shepard’s conversation, snorted. “Jeong is weak,” he replied. “Someone put him in charge of something, so he believed he had power. The geth did everyone a favor by relieving him of it.”

“I was going to guess small penis,” Williams commented. 

Tali felt a flush in her cheeks, but Wrex chortled. “He can’t match Shepard in battle, so he thinks he can regain his status by outwitting him. Shepard should eat him.” 

Garrus blanched. “That might be a little extreme.” 

Wrex shrugged, his massive shoulders making the simple gesture seem more like a shift in tectonic plates. 

“Everyone back to the Mako,” Shepard called to them. “We’re moving out.” 

“Finally,” Wrex rumbled. 

Williams, however, hung back. “Hey, Skipper. Can I have a go at the wheel?”

“Not a chance, Williams,” Shepard replied, already headed for the barricade.

She sighed. “I can almost handle putting my life in the hands of a batshit crazy CO with a death wish behind the wheel. But I’m not sure I can handle Alenko’s shit-eating I told you so when we get back.”

~

The geth dropship still clung ominously to the ExoGeni complex when they returned to the skyway, each spindly “leg” puncturing the building’s thick shell at a different point. Black smoke wafted from fresh rents in the ancient concrete. This skyscraper was taller and even sturdier than the one used by Zhu’s Hope, but it hadn’t been enough to stop the geth.Shepard ground the Mako to a stop about a kilometer away.

“What’s it doing?” he asked, glancing sideways at Tali. She craned her neck a little, searching for some significance in the anchor points. The power readings from the ship itself were off the charts. She was dying to do a more invasive scan, see if she could hack through some of the firewalls the geth had erected and see what they were up to. But doing so would certainly attract attention they didn’t want. 

“If I were to guess,” she said slowly, “and it’s just a guess, I’d say they were using the ship to somehow directly interface with ExoGeni’s systems. If they have extensive databases it might be more than the geth platforms are able to disseminate. But if they could do a core dump to the ship, they have all the processing power they need.”

“How do we stop it?” he asked, peering out the windshield. 

“We’d need some way to disrupt the connection.”

Williams spoke up from the back. “Have Joker blow them to hell,” she suggested. “Precision strike and they’re history.” 

“Along with whatever data they’re after,” Garrus pointed out. “We’d never know what they were looking for.” 

“Agreed,” Shepard said, still studying the drop ship.He shifted the tank back into gear and began to creep forward again. “One of the scientists, Hossle I think his name was, gave me a map to a basement entrance that might let us infiltrate without attracting a lot of attention. We need to disable that ship and figure out what the hell ExoGeni was really doing here. Somehow I doubt it was just studying ruins.”

“Let me guess,” Garrus said. “He wanted a favor in return.” 

“Hey, Garrus. You’re catching on.” 

“Fantastic,” the turian replied. “We’re risking our live against the geth, but please, let us know what errands you need run.”

Shepard smiled into the windshield. “If it means enough credits to upgrade my assault rifle, I don’t mind a little salvage along the way.” 

They encountered another armature and a handful of ground troops before reaching their destination, but this time they were more easily dealt with. Tali smiled in deep satisfaction as the armature crunched under the tread of the tank’s thick tires. 

The geth had done little to fortify the building, either not expecting resistance or assigning greater priority to the data and restricting the units they could spare to protect their position. 

The garage Shepard guided them to was an expansive space with low, claustrophobic ceilings, badly damaged in the attack but more or less intact. Several vehicles with the ExoGeni logo painted on the sides were strewn about in mangled heaps, some overturned, others burnt out down to the frame. None were serviceable. No wonder the scientists hadn’t gotten far. 

“What do you see?” Shepard asked. 

Tali lowered her chin as she scanned the immediate area, glad he couldn’t see her expression. No one had ever relied on her to assess a situation. Even Keenah had preferred to consult his own numbers. “There’s some kind of energy field blocking the sensors,” she said. “The basement looks clear, but I can’t see beyond that.” 

Shepard released his seat restraints with a click and opened the hatch. The sudden change in air pressure immediately pressed against her suit. As she climbed out and leaped nimbly down beside Shepard her atmospheric circulators began to whir, filtering particulates out of the breathable air before sending it through the sterilization protocols. It was stagnant and still in here, the acrid scent of burnt metal still lingering heavily. 

Outside the confines of the Mako her suit mini-frame took over her scans, trying to identify the energy source blocking them. She activated her omnitool to facilitate the process. 

“Over here,” she said, pointing towards the far wall of the structure. 

A low growl from the shadows brought Tali’s attention around with a snap, suit sensors automatically screening for threats. The crack of a rifle echoed throughout the rubble. A few meters ahead of them a four-legged shape flopped to the ground, light glinting off two razor sharp canines curving upward from the bottom of its jaw over the creature’s upper lip. She looked over her shoulder to see Garrus lowering his rifle. 

“Varren,” he said, subharmonics flanging in distaste. “Wonder how the hell they wound up here.” 

Wrex stirred, his hard, red eyes taking on a dangerous gleam. “There’s another krogan here,” he said with a low growl. “I can smell him.” 

“Come on,” Shepard said. “We need to find a way inside.” 

It was easier said than done. A bright, pulsating energy field spanned the entrance to the facility, blocking their path. Tali skimmed her omnitool, fingers flashing over the haptic keys. The energy output was off the scale. _Jaxa would love to see these specs,_ she thought to herself, then had to suppress a gleeful laugh. Her old classmate had scoffed at Tali’s plans for her Pilgrimage, thinking he would have a much better time exploring the Hourglass Nebula. Now here she was, studying geth technology that could very possibly be adapted for use within the fleet, while he was probably scanning asteroid belts in Faryar for salvage.

She felt Shepard’s gaze, and came to realize they were all waiting expectantly. “Well…now we know what they’re using the ship for,” she said. “Or at least one thing they’re using it for. This field is drawing its power right from their drive core. It’s quite brilliant, actually. They’re using a feedback loop to funnel enough energy to form this barrier. It essentially allows them to seal off whatever they want.” 

Williams patted the grenade pouch on her hip. “We can always try and blast our way through.” 

Tali shook her head. “Even if we combined all of our firepower, we wouldn’t make a dent in that field. Only way to take it down would be to disable the ship’s core, or sever the connection. Which we can’t do from out here.” 

Shepard wandered away from them, investigating the nearby area. After a moment he called out, waving them over. “If we can’t get through it, why not go under?” 

Tali glimpsed a utility corridor through a crevice in the ground where the ground had collapsed, unguarded by the energy field. 

“Hossle said this basement was the lowest level ExoGeni had made habitable,” Shepard said. “But obviously there’s plenty of levels below it.” He looked at Wrex with satisfaction. “Just like Therum, only less brute force.” 

“That’s a long drop,” Williams observed, peering into the darkness below. “We go down, we’re probably not coming back up until we figure out how to drop that field.”

“Then I guess we better get on with it.” Without another word Shepard sat, swung his legs over the edge and dropped down into the hole. The flashlight built into his helmet flicked on, knifing through the darkness with a bright gleam. 

The impact of the krogan’s weight on the floor below reverberated through Tali’s feet. “If we can’t defeat the geth and destroy that ship we don’t deserve to get out.” 

“Eloquent bastard, isn’t he?” Williams commented. Tali exchanged glances with Garrus. The gunnery chief shrugged, then followed suit. 

“After you,” Garrus said with a sweeping gesture of his arm. 

A cloud of dust sprang up under Tali’s boots as she landed. Her own headlamp clicked on automatically, bouncing off the narrow walls of the ancient corridor and revealing crumbled stone riddled with fissures. Here the air was so old and forgotten that even her air toxicity monitors were nearly quiet. 

Her omnitool began sending out radio waves to create some semblance of a map of their surroundings. The corridor appeared to be narrow and long but fairly straight, with few offshoots until they got farther ahead.

“There might be an exit to the next level ahead,” she said, pointing. Then she frowned. “Commander…I might be picking up life signs.”

“Survivors?” Shepard asked sharply. 

Tali nodded. Omnitool still out she proceeded down the corridor, searching for a doorway to the right. Radar scans indicated some kind of space ahead. Not another passageway, but perhaps a storage room. She came to a stop in front of the crumbled remains of a door. Loose debris had been piled in front of it, the dust disturbed by the blurred smudge of handprints. Shepard glanced at Wrex, and the two immediately began shifting rubble aside. Dismayed gasps on the other side made Tali’s heart clench. She remembered hiding from Jacobus deep in the bowls of the Citadel, how terribly, uncannily still Keenah’s chest became after that last breath…the overwhelming fear of being discovered alone. She shuddered.

The krogan succeeded in tossing the largest piece of rock aside. The lights from their helmets fell on three humans, all wearing the same ExoGeni uniforms as the scientists on the skyway, though the repeated stain of constant use had worn the white cloth muddy brown. Wide eyes looked out at them from faces streaked with sweat and grime. The alcove they’d taken shelter in was tiny and cramped, no bigger than a closet, and it reeked of urine. 

“It’s all right,” Shepard said, snapping into action and swiftly helping a young woman to her feet. “We’re here to help.” 

Upon seeing that he wasn’t a geth, the woman, who hardly looked older than Tali, choked out a cry of relief and wrapped her arms around the commander’s neck. To Tali’s mild surprise he hugged her right back. Something raw burned hot in his blue eyes, one hand cradled the back of her head and held her like a parent comforting a child.

“You’re safe,” he whispered, in the tone of someone who understood what it was like to wonder if rescue was coming. 

The other two humans were male, both older, but both just as shaken. “Thank Christ, I thought we were dead,” one of them said, trembling.

Shepard separated himself from the girl long enough to get a look at her face, but kept one hand on her shoulder. She gripped his wrist as though afraid he might vanish if she let go. “Are you Lizbeth Baynham?” he asked. 

Her eyes widened in shock. “How-?”

“Your mother’s alive,” Shepard told her. “She asked me to look for you.” 

The girl laughed, eyes wet with joy. “Where! Where is she?” 

“In a security bunker off the highway,” Shepard replied. “I’d take you to her, but we have to disable this field first. We can’t get out the same way we got in. I hate to say it, but you may have to stay here a little longer.”

She bit her lip.

“What happened?” Williams asked. She too had abandoned her usual irreverence in favor of sympathy, a side of her Tali hadn’t seen before. 

Lizbeth took a deep breath. “The geth showed up,” she faltered. “Everyone started to evacuate but we…” she shook her head. “We stayed behind to back up data. So _stupid._ ” 

“The power went out,” one of the men said. “We dropped everything and ran. There were seven of us then. That barrier…we couldn’t get out, so the geth just picked us off one by one. Until Lizbeth found the door down to this level. She saved our lives.”

“Do you know why they attacked?” Shepard asked, turning his full attention back to the girl. 

The three of them exchanged uneasy glances. “We don’t know,” one of the men responded. 

Some of the compassion left Shepard’s face, replaced by something hard. Lizbeth dropped her hand and clasped it behind her back, looking at her feet. 

“I think—” she started, before being shushed by one of her colleagues. Her posture straightened like someone had doused her with cold water. “Oh, get off it, Dorian,” she snapped. “It’s not like ExoGeni has come for us. If they don’t care whether we live or die, I don’t exactly need to protect their secrets anymore.” 

“What is it?” Shepard demanded. “What were they doing here?” 

“The thorian,” she said, and the man she’d called Dorian groaned. Lizbeth shot him a look. 

“What’s a thorian?” Williams asked, wrinkling her nose. 

“An indigenous life form we found on Feros,” Lizbeth replied, some of her anxiety fading into excitement. “We’re not even sure how to classify it. No one’s ever seen anything like it.”

“What do the geth want with it?” Wrex said. 

“Don’t know,” Dorian cut in. “There’s not a whole lot we can tell you about it.” 

Williams rolled her eyes. “Because you don’t know or because your priorities are really, really screwed up?”

“Probably both,” Garrus said dryly. 

“Doesn’t change anything,” Shepard said, glancing around at them. “But at least we might know what they’re after. Now we just have to find out why.” He turned back to Lizbeth. “You need to stay here until we sort this out. We’ll make sure the geth don’t find you.”

Fear crept back into her face. Shepard placed his hands on her shoulders. “We’re coming back for you. I _promise_.” He lifted her chin with one finger. “I’m getting you out of here.” 

She nodded almost imperceptibly. “Here,” she said suddenly, digging in a pocket and offering Shepard a card the size of her palm. “My entry key. This should get you access to the labs, whatever you want.” 

Shepard took the passkey with a smile and thanks, then signaled to the rest to keep going. 

Once they were clear of the alcove Wrex snorted. “If they can’t fend for themselves they’re of no use to us. Coming back for them is a waste of time.” 

Shepard did not turn his head. “It’s our job to protect those who can’t protect themselves,” he replied. 

“That’s what makes your race weak.” 

“That’s what makes us strong,” Shepard shot back. 

The citadel had taught Tali most people _didn’t_ look out for those who couldn’t protect themselves. In her experience those who did were the ones who had at one point another sat on both sides of the fence. 

She watched Shepard’s back, his shoulders hunched as though bracing himself against the weight of a setting sun. 

And wondered. 

~

The tunnels under Zhu’s Hope were damp, cold and claustrophobic, but at least they were well lit. Liara followed Lt. Alenko gingerly down the steep, narrow staircase, one hand trailing against the wall for balance. The old stone was cracked and porous to touch, and her fingers left behind streaks in the centuries old residue coating the walls like moss. A moldy, cloying smell filled her nostrils. Other than the quiet patter of their footfalls the only sound was the staccato drip of water echoing about them. 

She tried to imagine it at the height of prothean civilization, healed and whole, the steps polished and smoothed by the constant flow of alien feet. What kind of people had they been? Kind, curious, ruthless, driven? Whatever they were, surely that had not seen the fate that rushed towards them at terminal velocity. 

_This cannot happen to us_ , she thought. _Mother, what have you done? How could you be part of this?_

Not only was she part of it, but she had landed Liara right in the middle of it, forced to choose whether to protect her mother or hunt her down like a dog. She had chosen the hunt, but dared not think about what that might mean if they came face to face. She possessed little of her mother’s pride and strength. 

_You cannot show weakness among friends or enemies_ , Benezia had told her once, after she had cried in front of Eirene Delunne and Moire Tannis, daughters of Benezia’s compatriots who Liara had hated growing up. _It doesn’t matter what you feel – it matters what they see._

_What about you?_ Liara had asked, wiping away tears on the back of her hand. Benezia had been wearing yellow that day, all Liara’s memories of Benezia involved yellow, and she had woven gardessa flowers from the garden through her headdress. _Can I cry in front of you?_

Benezia had smiled, rubbing her thumb against the dampness of Liara’s cheek. _You are my Little Wing. I know what’s inside you even when you don’t._

The words had made Liara feel better, but it wasn’t until much later she realized her mother had not actually answered the question. Could it be Benezia was afraid now, trapped by Saren but unwilling to show the weakness she so abhorred? She wouldn’t know until she found her.

Liara was familiar enough with her mother’s associates to make a few inquiries, but by the time they had arrived on Feros none had yielded results. Shepard had allocated her all the bandwidth she needed, but no one would speak with her. Her messages went unreturned, calls unanswered. Liara had underestimated the loyalty her mother commanded, even in light of her new, unsavory allegiances. 

Something flashed on her HUD, snapping her focus back to the present.

“Looks like central control for the aqueduct is due east,” Alenko said. His walked with a slightly stilted gait, left foot even dragging ever so slightly. His expression was weary, eyes lacking the razor sharp focus she’d seen on Agebinium. There was something resigned in his voice, his earlier agitation fading slowly into surrender. 

If she looked close she could see a small scar peeking out from under his thick, dark hair, not far above the amp plugged in to the back of his neck. Without the metal in his brain that amp would be useless. She rubbed a thumb over the back of her own amp. Asari didn’t need the help of an implant. The ability to control their own nervous system was a genetic trait mastered with practice. But biotics were still new to humans. They were still on the steep side of the learning curve, and from the sounds of it they had made costly mistakes. 

Alenko was talented, though. Perhaps he lacked the power of most asari, but he made up for it with careful, calculated control that played off his strengths, something he’d earned through hard, painstaking work. 

Alenko held her up short when they reached the bottom of the stairs. The passage turned to the right, hidden from view. “There’s geth ahead,” he said quietly, examining his scanner. “And something else.” He cocked his head to the side. “Looks human.” 

“A colonist?” she asked. 

“We’re about to find out.” 

Alenko stepped inside the tunnel, pistol drawn. The space was wider than she expected, and easily tall enough to accommodate them side by side. The dry aqueduct ran along their left hand side. 

To her astonishment a human strolled nonchalantly towards them, humming to himself as a strange smile played across his face. He was of moderate build, with close set eyes and dark hair, unarmed and inexplicably unconcerned. According to her combat scanner the geth were only a few dozen meters down the tunnel, but if the man was aware of them he gave no sign. 

“Stop,” Alenko called out, pistol still aimed. She half expected him to keep walking, but he obediently came to a halt about a meter away.

“Pleasant day for a stroll,” he said. 

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Alenko demanded. 

“Nothing I should,” he replied, a grin exposing rows of straight, white teeth, “and a few things I shouldn’t.” 

Before either of them could reply he hit his knees with a shriek of pain. Alenko jumped forward to help him, but pulled up short when his cries dissolved into crazed laughter. 

“Oh,” he sighed, getting unsteadily back to his feet. “That was a good one.”

Liara stared in disbelief. Alenko tightened his grip on his pistol, jaw working. “What’s the hell is the matter with you?” he said finally. 

The man wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Just invoking the master’s whip,” he said, an unsettling light glimmering in the back of his eyes. “It helps remind me I’m still alive.” 

“Who are you?” Alenko demanded. 

“Ian Newstead,” the man replied cheerfully, hooking his thumbs into his pockets. He wore a nondescript jumper like the other Zhu’s Hope colonists, with no visible injuries. 

A cautionary blue flare circled Liara’s fingers. “You need help.”

Newstead held up one finger, wagging it back and forth. “You don’t want to go down there,” he replied in a singsong voice. “You’re not the only ones interested in those…things.”

“The geth?” Alenko asked cautiously. Newstead took a step forward. The sight of Alenko’s pistol followed him with a jerk. 

“Not looking for,” Newstead informed him, unfazed by the gun pointed at his head. “Looking to get rid of. They’re a thorn in the side of…” He doubled over as though he’d been stabbed in the gut, gasping for air and gritting his teeth. “They’re trying to get to the—” He screeched in pain as Alenko and Liara looked on in horror, until once again his screams dissolved into maniacal laughter that echoed up and down the tunnel.

“I don’t think there’s anything we can do for him,” Liara said anxiously. “He’s going to draw the geth right to us!” 

“I’m inclined to agree with you, doctor,” Alenko replied, expression grim. 

Newstead gave them a pitying look. “The geth have set up camp in an alcove past the aqueduct access. They’re using a portable transmitter to communicate. If you destroy them, the—” he gasped again as another spasm took over, “—will be very—”

This time his scream was bloodcurdling, eyes rolling back into his head. Alenko actually backed away, shielding Liara with a forearm. 

“…grateful,” Newstead finished once the episode had passed. 

Alenko grabbed Liara and pulled her quickly past the deranged colonist, never relaxing his grip on his pistol. As they hurried away she could still hear his laughter echoing behind them. Liara, nerves fraying dangerously, came to a halt. “What is going on here?” she begged, not at all comforted to see Alenko’s expression mirrored her own. 

“I don’t know,” he said, “but we need to destroy this transmitter and get the _hell_ out.”

 

 

* * *


	21. Pestilentia

Kaidan’s arm dropped wearily to his side as the last geth fell, blue aura vanishing abruptly along with the rest of his strength. With a half stumble he sagged against the wall and closed his eyes to still the sudden vertigo threatening to turn the world upside down. A cruel, angry throbbing had closed over his left temple like a vice. 

Liara’s hand pressed against his back, the gentle touch still enough to make his teeth grind. “Lieutenant. Are you ok? What can I do?” 

“Nothing,” he mumbled with effort, loathe to open his eyes. He’d felt the prick of the dermal injector in the back of his neck during the firefight, for all the good it had done. While the trek back through the tunnel and up the long staircase was in reality not far, right now it seemed about as possible as traveling from Earth to Arcturus in nothing but an EVA suit. And they still had to reactivate the aqueduct. He wanted silence and a very dark room, neither of which were options for the foreseeable future. 

He braced himself against the wall as another wave of nausea swept over him. With each incessant throb an icepick drove deeper and deeper into his skull, an exquisite agony that he had never been able to adequately relate to those who sympathized but didn’t really understand what it felt like to be so utterly betrayed by your own body. 

In moments like this he wanted to dig the implant out of his skull with his bare hands. To hell with the people who told him he was lucky, to hell with being thankful that the men in white suits hadn’t come for him in the middle of the night, or that he hadn’t woken up one morning and decided to gleefully murder everyone in sight because the L2 wires in his brain fried his sanity to a crisp. If living in fear that one day the metal chip in his head would one day make him snap wasn’t enough, he was somehow expected to swallow this agony with a smile and some unfathomable appreciation that this was as bad as it got. As if wanting to blow your own head off was some kind of _gift_.

He forced his eyes open against the searing glare of the lamps strung up around the now-dormant transmitter. Crazy as Ian Newstead had seemed, he had been right. The geth had been using it to coordinate their attacks. By disabling it, and hopefully reinitializing water flow through the aqueduct, they would essentially eliminate the immediate threat to Zhu’s Hope. 

The telltale scotoma had appeared during the first barrage, and his last biotic exertion had sent him spiraling over the edge. 

Though there had been a few terrifying moments when his biotics wouldn’t respond at all. One of the little frog-like units had sprung from a pillar and detonated some kind of ECM field point blank at his chest. Once the agony in his brain had passed its crescendo and the halos of light had subsided enough to get his vision back, he’d raised an arm to counter and…nothing. 

If his goddamn head didn’t hurt so goddamn much he would care a little more. 

Liara slipped his right arm around her shoulders. He wanted to push her off, save himself the embarrassment of needing assistance just to walk, but his equilibrium had taken a nosedive right off a cliff. A black, spinning penny twirled at the edge of his vision, expanding and contracting with each pulsation. Her slender presence was somehow reassuring.

“Let’s go,” she said, voice threaded with worry. 

“No,” he managed, pointing towards the aqueduct. “We finish the mission.” If they left the aqueduct deactivated, everything they’d just done might be in vain. He wasn’t taking that chance. 

Sweat dripped down his nose as they walked, one laborious step after another. His limbs felt like lead, every movement jamming the ice pick deeper, sending ripples of pain through his extremities. When they reached the aqueduct control station he stopped, once again feeling out a wall for support. Closing his eyes once more, he sought out some momentary reprieve that might let him get the job done. 

He heard Liara bring the panel to life with a whine that grated his ears. “I think I can do it,” she said, sounding surprisingly calm and assured. “Doyle gave us the schematics she had, and I’ve had a little of my own experience with this kind of thing before.”

More nausea. He doubled over, this time unable to ride it out, and vomited up the energy bar he’d eaten before their descent into the tunnels. Liara made a small noise of distress but kept working. For half a moment his head felt better, though his quivering insides and the sour taste of bile in his throat detracted a little from his relief.

“I’ve reset the lockout controls,” Liara reported. “We should be able to achieve remote access from the colony. Now I just have to deactivate the blocks…”

Kaidan forced himself back to his feet, taking a moment to try and still his swimming vision. “Here,” he croaked, motioning for her to move aside. She did so reluctantly, face clearly revealing her lack of confidence in his motor skills.

The lights from the panel tap danced across his already tortured skull, but the quicker he could get it done the quicker they could get back. He let his subconscious take over – he’d isolated the correct protocols before leaving the colony and committed them to memory – deactivating each block one by one. 

At first only a trickle dribbled down the tube. But soon enough the trickle became a torrent, water churning back through the ancient system with a tempestuous gurgle. He exhaled, put a useless hand to his temple and wavered slightly on his feet.

“We’re almost there, lieutenant,” Liara reassured him, once again offering him assistance. 

“How long…Shepard been gone?” he said with effort. 

Liara tilted her chin as she considered the question. “Few hours, at least. Why?”

“Need you t’do something.” He raised his wrist and called up his omnitool, wincing at the orange glow, so _bright_ against the dim lighting. “Decryption key for the colony mainframe. Have to upload it.”

“Decryption key?” she asked. “What for?”

He didn’t get a chance to answer. Joker’s voice filtered through the comm. 

_ “Lieutenant! Jesus, Alenko, you better be there.” _

The roar of static that accompanied the transmission made him hiss through his teeth. “What,” he snapped in reply. 

_ “You told us to look for something weird,”  _ the pilot replied, unperturbed. _“Well, I got something for ya. There’s something underneath the colony. Something big. Something alive. And I get the impression from the doc that whatever it is, the colonists really don’t want us to know.”_

“Where’s Chakwas?” Kaidan demanded. “She with you?” 

_ “Pressly called her back onboard as soon as he picked it up. We’re locked up tight in here until we get further orders. Pressly wants you to check it out.”  _

Liara looked like she was ready to argue, but Kaidan stopped her. “On our way,” he replied, fighting off another wave of dizziness. 

The asari frowned. “You’re in no shape for this. We need to get you medical attention.” 

He shook his head, wanting to explain with the fewest possibly syllables. “Doc’s done all she can. Mission comes first. Have to figure out what’s going on to warn Shepard.”

When she didn’t respond he gripped her arm. “The mission _always_ comes first.” 

Eventually she nodded. Once again they resumed their painful trek, one step at a time. 

~

Wrex smelled the krogan long before they heard him. From the bottom of a long stair they heard his angry grumbling echoing above their heads, but Wrex’s hackles were already up. He clutched his shotgun in a restless grip. Too much creeping. Too much sneaking around. His blood burned, aching for combat. The moment that scent hit his nostrils he felt a clutch of rage settle in his chest. The krogan at the top of the stairs was already dead – he just didn’t know it yet.

He understood the mercenaries. He understood the pirates. The genophage had driven the krogan to the brink of desperation – with no hope for their future they had defaulted to whatever aggression they could embroil themselves in. If they could not conquer they could at least fight, dreaming of the days when Kredak, Shiagur and Moro had stood tall and bellowed in victory. 

But Saren had shackled his people to _machines_. While honor was hardly a krogan virtue, anyone who would waste themselves fighting with the scrap metal they’d found on Therum deserved to die.

His own kind, serving that _chutak_ turian. Years ago the turian Spectre had hired him and a crew of mercenaries to raid a volus cargo ship. His name had meant nothing to Wrex then – he was just another bald faced turian with an overabundance of superiority and the credits to back it up. The slender side bones lent him a cold, cunning look, but that wasn’t what had piqued Wrex’s attention. Something about that turian just smelled _wrong,_ wrong enough for Wrex to walk away from the contract. It had been a lot of credits, but credits weren’t much good if you were dead, and Wrex had growing suspicion that if he went through with it he’d never get his chance to collect. And he’d been right. Every merc on Saren’s payroll had wound up dead. 

His nose never lied. 

At a wordless nod from Shepard Wrex lunged up the stairs, shotgun swinging in his hands. The amp planted to the base of his skull roared to life as he summoned his barrier. 

The few krogan biotics in the galaxy did not turn their skills to art like the asari, finesse them like the drell, or fear them like the humans. Battlemasters used dark energy with raw, brute force, like wading through a fire without fear of being burned. As his corona roiled around him, humming with agitation, something primal inside him stirred. 

The unsuspecting krogan at the top of the stairs had his back turned as he argued with a VI terminal. By the time he realized his peril it was too late. Wrex loosed a warp field that chewed through the ablative coating of his armor, emptied the chamber of his shotgun into his chest, then barreled into him with terrifying force, pinning him against the wall behind the VI. Blood spouted from holes the shotgun had bored through his suit and Wrex exploited them, digging his fingers into the rents and gouging at the flesh exposed beneath the armor. The other krogan bellowed in rage and pain. Wrex responded by driving his crest into the krogan’s face. The krogan reeled, giving Wrex enough time to shunt another round into the shotgun chamber and finish the job. 

By the time the others reached the top of the stairs Wrex stood in a growing pool of golden blood and neuroconductive fluid. He wiped some of the cruor off his face. The turian’s mandibles fluttered with shock, the Williams-human whistled. Shepard merely nodded. 

“Good work.” He stepped over the corpse to access the VI, tilting his head in curiosity. The holographic projection, humanoid in shape with vague, indistinguishable features, flickered for a moment but offered a greeting. 

“ExoGeni Corporation would like to remind all staff that the discharge of weapons on company property is strictly prohibited,” it said pleasantly. 

“Noted,” Shepard said.

“Welcome back, Research Assistant Baynham.” 

Shepard looked down at the card the female had handed him. “Um. Thanks.”

Wrex rumbled a little in disgust. “You could scour the ruins of Tuchanka for a lifetime and never find a dammed VI interface. Useless machine.”

“Oh, and I’m sure it’s because of your commitment to customer service and has nothing to do with your propensity to solve problems with a hammer instead of an omnitool,” the turian said. 

Wrex blinked, unable to conceal his surprise. A long moment of expectant silence followed. Even the turian shrank himself ever so slightly, as though to brace himself for the rebuke. The krogan sighed. “Of course I get stuck with the one turian in the galaxy who thinks he’s funny,” he said at last. Williams snickered. Garrus’ mandible quivered. 

Shepard spared them only half a glance. “What was the previous user looking for?”

The VI flickered again, followed by a subtle clicking sound as it rummaged for the requested data. “The previous user requested information on Species 37. However he lacked the proper clearance to access this database.” 

The Williams-human leaned towards the quarian. “Think that means the thorian?”

“Tell me,” Shepard demanded. 

Again came the brief distortion of light as the VI ran the clearance checks and processed the request. “Species 37 is categorized as a plant-like life form demonstrating sentience not found in other local flora.” 

The quarian gasped a little. “Sentience?” 

Shepard shushed her with a wave of his hand.

“Lifespan of the creature is not available,” the VI continued. “However current data tracking the rate of growth verses existing mass indicates that it may have survived undisturbed for hundreds of thousands of years.”

Wrex stirred. They called that a lifespan? Millennia spent growing and rooting in this darkened, decaying pit while the rest of the galaxy rolled past, completely impervious to your existence? That didn’t sound like living. Say what you would about the krogan – they didn’t take living passively.

Shepard scowled, absently rubbing his chin. “If it’s that old, it might predate the protheans. No wonder Saren wanted to investigate it. Where is the thorian now?” 

“Fetching data,” the VI replied. Wrex’s fists curled, resisting the urge to strangle its non-existent neck. “The current status of the thorian is out of date. All sensors at the Zhu’s Hope observation post have been inactive for several cycles.”

“What does Zhu’s Hope have to do with the thorian?” Shepard demanded. 

“Species 37 is located within the substructure of the Zhu’s Hope outpost,” the machine reported blissfully. “Before sensors went offline, the control group at the outpost were 85% infected.”

“ _Infected_?” Shepard said. “Infected by _what?”_

“Through dispersion and eventual inhalation of spores, Species 37 has demonstrated a unique ability to affect and control other organisms.”

“Shit, sir,” the Williams-human piped up. “We have to warn Alenko.” 

Shepard already had his hand to his comm. “Shepard to Alenko. Come in, Lieutenant.” A roar of static greeted him in response. 

“That energy field is blocking our communications,” the quarian offered. “We need to deactivate it to get through.”

“If those colonists turn on them,” Williams warned.

Wrex scoffed. The Alenko human was too easily burdened, too desperate to please. The type who sought to earn valor in the eyes of others instead of for himself. Between that one and the Williams-human, he would opt for the female every time. She had an indomitable nature the other lacked.“If he can’t handle a few colonists what good is he to us?” 

She shot him a glare. “He’s not going to kill unarmed colonists.” 

He shrugged. “Then they’ll kill him. Wishing they’ll leave him alone won’t make it happen.” 

“We can’t worry about them now,” Shepard said, voice rising above theirs. “We move on with the mission. Got it?” 

She muttered her agreement and shot Wrex another angry look, which he ignored. During their last sparring match she’d landed a few good hits. Though she would never have the strength to take down a krogan in hand to hand combat, he had to admit she’d been right – some of the techniques he taught her had already made her a better fighter. The Alenko-human could stand to learn a few of her lessons. 

If he perished at the colony it would be no great loss. But Wrex found himself hoping the asari could handle herself. He’d heard about the skill she’d demonstrated on Agebinium. Despite her painful naiveté, something about her reminded him of Aleena. 

It would be a shame if they lost her so soon. 

~

Liara had given little thought to the crane set up on the starboard side of the freighter. Now, however, it was foremost on her mind. And Hannah Murakami knew it. The former crewmember of the _Borealis_ watched her approach with wary, restless eyes, corners of her mouth pulling into a slight grimace. 

The general demeanor of Zhu’s Hope had cooled considerably since their return from the tunnels. Fai Dan showed no concern for Alenko’s obvious distress, instead grilling them about what they had learned down at the tunnel, noticeably herding them away from the freighter. They’d had a bad experience with the _Normandy’s_ doctor, he’d told them, and thought it was best if they return to the ship. 

Alenko argued, gripping a pillar to keep himself on his feet, blinking into the newly restored lights to the colony with agony etched deep in his eyes. Eyes that summoned all the focus they could muster to hone in on that crane long enough for Liara to notice. 

As she quietly slipped away from the argument she looked over her shoulder, willing her feet not to double back. If they opened fire on him, he wouldn’t be able to fight back. 

_ The mission comes first _ , he had said. 

She was glad she wasn’t a soldier. 

Upon closer examination, she saw both reasons why Alenko had been so interested in it. The first was the terminal beside it Murakami guarded. The second was that the crane connected to the freighter in a way that didn’t make sense. There was nothing to lift. Nothing to move. 

Except the ground. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Murakami said. 

Liara gripped a small scanner concealed in her pocket, thumbing it blindly to initiate a scan. The tiny scanner had come with her from Therum, a handy little tool that was smaller than an omnitool and far more limited, but it took solid thermal readings – and with Alenko’s decryption protocol she could use it to access the colony mainframe through the crane’s control panel. 

“We’re not here to cause trouble,” Liara said, holding her breath. Every movement her fingers made in her pocket seemed clumsy and obvious, but Murakami’s gaze never left her face. 

“I think you are,” she replied. “Your predecessor wasn’t exactly here out of charity.” 

Liara’s fingers stilled on the scanner. _Predecessor? Goddess, is my mother here?_

Murakami chuckled a little, tilting her chin upwards and inhaling deeply. “This is all Ledra’s fault. I would never have wound up here if it weren’t for him. The opportunity of a lifetime, he told us. And Captain Dualla believed him.” She fixed her gaze back on Liara. “Now they’re all dead. It’s just me and him. And we’re never going to leave.” 

“Why?” Liara asked, heart thudding in her ears. The protocol was uploading. She just needed a few more seconds…

Murakami smiled a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and fingered the grip of a pistol peeking out from a holster Liara had overlooked. “I think you know.”

The muzzle of the gun whipped free from its holster before Liara could withdraw her hand from her pocket, fingers fumbling to execute a mnemonic faster than a bullet could reach her. 

A deafening crack shattered the stillness of the air. She sucked a breath in through her teeth. 

_ It doesn’t even hurt _ . 

Murakami stared at her, eyes wide with surprise. A hand fluttered to her abdomen, where a red stain seeped through the cloth of her jumper.

Alenko stood behind her, pistol raised, face twisted into a grimace. 

Behind them someone screamed. As Murakami slumped to the ground, all hell broke loose.

~

The quarian led them down another corridor onto a balcony overlooking a large lab, where computer terminals and research stations remained largely undisturbed, aside from a few fractured screens and shattered equipment where a scientist or two had gotten a wild hair to fight back. Oddly, the chairs remained neatly in place, or in some cases, stacked neatly out of the way. Wrex had never seen a clean battlefield before, but then again before Shepard he hadn’t spent much time fighting machines that craved order. 

However, as much as the room had been put back together after eliminating the humans, they had also done plenty of…rearranging. A massive claw of the geth dropship bored through the outer wall of the structure, showering the ground with a thick, chalky coating of concrete dust and debris. Thick, heavy cabling spooled from multiple access points, strewn throughout the area in what at first seemed a haphazard fashion, but upon further examination proved extremely precise. 

Three geth monitored the cabling, all the diminutive base models. Wrex’s fingers curled into tight fists. Weight advantage. Poor shielding. Ripping the flexible tubing along the back of their neck disrupted motor functions enough to incapacitate, and his kinetic barriers could take a direct hit from their pulse rifles for about four seconds before risking failure. That gave him a safe closing distance of twenty meters. 

Simple. Granted, navigating the drop to the ground made the calculations a bit trickier, but that was part of the fun.

The snick and hiss of a sniper rifle barrel sliding loose from its casing echoed in his ear. With a disgruntled huff he glanced at the turian, who sighted down the barrel once it reached its full length. Shepard and the Williams-human did the same.

“Range weapons take all the joy out of fighting,” he muttered. 

“Sir?” the Williams-human asked quietly. 

“Take ‘em out,” Shepard replied. Three quick shots, followed by three metallic clunks. Wrex spared a regretful glance at the heaps of metal. 

“Don’t worry big guy,” Williams said, patting him on the shoulder. “Pretty sure there’ll be a few dozen more with your name on ‘em.” 

The quarian nodded towards the cabling, golden glow of her omnitool reflecting off her faceplate. “Hardlines. They’re providing the means for the power transfer to the shield.”

The Williams-human raised her gun. 

“No!” the quarian cried, reaching out a hand to stop her. If Williams had a krogan’s reflexes, the quarian would have dearly missed that hand. “It’s too thick. We don’t have the firepower to disrupt it, and by shooting at it you’ll just alert the other geth.” 

Williams lowered the rifle begrudgingly. “So then what do we do? We can’t shoot it, can’t get Joker to shoot it. Anyone want to just ask them nicely to go away?” 

The quarian frowned, still scanning her omnitool. “The ship’s propulsion systems have been disabled. It looks like the only thing holding it up are these arms. Theoretically, if we disable one, the increased load differential will cause the others to fail.”

“You just said we don’t have the munitions to pull it off,” Williams pointed out. 

“We don’t,” the quarian agreed. “But all it would take is sufficient shearing force from the right angle.”

“Time to get creative,” the turian said with a sigh.

A marker appeared on Wrex’s HUD. “Here,” the quarian said. “I’ve located one of the other claw entry points. It looks like some kind shuttle receiving. There might be something there we can use.” 

Rubble blocked the ramp to the bottom of the lab, so one by one they dropped down to the ground and headed west past a few flickering terminals, where Shepard stopped and beckoned to the quarian. After a few moments of whispering she nodded and plugged an OSD into one of the terminals.

The Williams-human murmured something to the turian, then chewed her lip and pointed at a blood stain smeared on the lab desk. Wrex suppressed a sneer. Whoever’s blood it was didn’t deserve mourning. The human custom of such narrow specializations baffled him; those who studied their science had little to no training in arms, just like their farmers. They sent their people out to far reaching colonies where space was cruel and the people crueler, with a few tools and no instinct to _hunt_. Explorers with guns they had no skill to use, and every cause to need them. The depths of human blood shed in the Traverse were not shallow.

When Shepard and the quarian finished they continued on and up to another catwalk about three meters from the ground, overlooking an anteroom to the shuttle receiving bay. 

And geth.

Two of the small, insect-like units hopped from wall to wall, clinging there with suction-like pads protruding from the ends of each limb. A large, antennaed geth bearing yellow stripes and carrying a shotgun that made Wrex’s mouth water patrolled a path through the center of the room, keeping close watch on sightlines. A mix of troopers and the upgraded version that carried rocket launchers navigated skeins of thick black cable girding the floor, occasionally rearranging and making adjustments. 

Wrex’s hump burned at their _wrongness,_ that he could stumble upon a nest of these non-beings without his senses alerting him to their presence. The geth had no _scent_. Wrex knew species by their fear, the pulse thumping through their veins, the black expanse of their wide, swallowing pupils, the smell of their blood. The geth possessed none of these things, walking heaps of scrap, tubes and conductive fluid. To smell a geth was no different than smelling the oil and lubricant of the Mako. 

The concept of synthetic life created a conundrum when none of the hallmarks of life applied. 

But alive or no these machines still fought with lethal precision, and there was nowhere to hide on the catwalk. Urgent, mechanized parlance erupted once they came into sight, and this time, there were not enough sniper rifles to manage the job.

Wrex’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarling grin, heat rising under his scales. This foe was not the rachni. It was not the turians. But his blood demanded that it die. 

Gunfire erupted. 

Wrex did not wait for a command to attack, setting his sights on the nearest rocket-carrying trooper. A barrage of suppressing fire from Williams’ rifle rattled over his head as he lunged, occasionally dwarfed by the ricocheting crack of the turian’s careful sniping. 

The rocket trooper aimed a shotgun at Wrex’s heart. A deep chortle rippled from his throat. “I have two of those, _gurash._ I hope you have more than one!” 

A loud boom followed by an electric sizzle sent the rocket launcher shrieking in catastrophic overheat, smoke from the quarian’s overload grenade spreading the odor of fried circuits. Wrex emptied his own shotgun, then with a roar leapt to the right of the monster and grabbed its antennae, snapping it under the sheer force of his hands. 

Something heavy landed on his back, suction pads clinging to the ablative coating of his hardsuit. Proximity alarms wailed as steely hands gripped the sides of the krogan’s skull like a vice. At the sound of a mass accelerator spinning up in his ear he threw his head back, colliding with the solid alloy of the geth’s head. It warbled but clung tight. 

_ Crack. _

The weight of the geth vanished, toppling limp to the floor in a tangle of spidery limbs. Wrex looked up long enough to see the turian lower his rifle, then threw himself back into the fray. The chatter of Shepard’s rifle felled two more troopers, while Wrex hefted a third with a biotic thrust and crushed it against the nearest wall. 

When at last there was nothing left to kill, Wrex stepped up to a mostly-intact metallic shell, crushed it under his heel and spat. 

Williams lowered her chin in bemusement. “We get it. You’re a badass.” 

Wrex’s lips spread wide. At the sight of the turian still up in his perch he offered a curt nod. “Nice shot. Do that a few more times and I might have to respect you.” 

“Well,” the turian replied. “That certainly makes it all worth it for me.” 

Shepard had already continued through the anteroom and into the shuttle receiving bay, where the explosive chatter of his assault rifle echoed over the discordant shriek of dying geth. When Wrex entered the chamber Shepard stood near the center of the room, arms folded over his chest as he examined his options. Smoke billowed from three geth carcasses, mingling with the fresh, caustic stench of scorched metal. 

Shepard, Wrex decided, had been born the wrong species.

The krogan followed the commander’s gaze to another massive claw piercing the crumbling masonry, though this time it hadn’t needed to force its way in. The geth had thrust it through the shuttle bay door, digging into the concrete of the floor for purchase. More cabling wound its way through the bay. 

The turian wandered over to a control panel. “Shepard,” he said after a moment, mandibles flaring. “Look here.” 

The commander peered over his shoulder, eyebrow rising. “Maintenance report?”

“Looks like they were having trouble calibrating the safety mechanism,” he replied. “According to the report anything between 30 and 35 PSI would shear through a metal I-beam.” 

The quarian perked up. Shepard and the turian exchanged wordless glances.

“Tali?” Shepard asked, stepping out of the way. She eagerly took to the controls, calculating the right PSI to trigger the door. Moments later it screamed shut with a squeal, slicing through the metal claw like a scythe. The entire room shuddered as the geth drop ship buckled, the weight held up by the shorn claw abruptly redistributed to the other anchor points. For a moment it looked like the ship would hold, but one by one each claw gave way with a shriek of grinding metal. Outside one of the observation windows Wrex watched as the ship’s cumbrous bulk plummeted away, helpless under the influence of gravity and a powered down drive core. 

The quarian checked her omnitool. “The field is down!” 

“Good,” Shepard replied. “Let’s get Baynham and the others and get the hell out of here.” 

The commander’s comm crackled to life. 

_ “..pard, do you read? …mmander, we ….eed assistance!” _

It was not, Wrex noted with little surprise, the Alenko-human calling. Or the asari. It was the pilot. Shepard pressed an anxious hand to his ear. “Joker? What’s happening? Where’s Alenko and T’Soni?” 

_ “…olonists attacked….omething’s wrong. Ale…..ot responding.” _

“Commander,” Tali interrupted. “Um. Our little act of sabotage appears to have mobilized the remaining geth in the facility. Converging on our location now.” 

“Sit tight,” Shepard ordered into the comm. “We’re coming.”

Anticipation flooded the battlemaster’s veins. What waited for them back at Zhu’s Hope was of much greater interest to him than the geth. If the VI was correct, Species 37 had survived the reapers. But if he had anything to say about it, it wouldn’t survive Urdnot Wrex.

 

* * *


	22. Cyphra

“Come out where I can see you! All of you!”

The mass accelerator of Shepard’s assault rifle powered down with a whine as he eased his finger off the trigger. This was not going according to plan.

The removal of the drop ship had restored communications, and upon returning to the weigh station with Lizbeth and the other survivors in tow, a schism between Baynham and Jeong had already been underway.

Shepard took a moment to curse the brash, impulsiveness of youth as Lizbeth skidded to her mother’s defense, alerting Jeong to their presence. A pistol with a scram rail and combat optics suite rivaling anything in Shepard’s arsenal wavered dangerously in Jeong’s hand, finger shaking where it hooked over the trigger. ExoGeni apparently supplied its people even better than the Alliance did.

For a moment Lizbeth looked the muzzle in the eye before her mother surrounded her with her arms and jerked her to the side. “Jeong!” she shouted.

“Shut up!” Jeong shrieked, leveling the pistol against her forehead with a trembling hand.

Shepard swore softly to himself, then stepped forward until the jaundiced light of the alcove fell over his face. His gun, still in hand, pointed towards the ceiling. “What’s going on?” he asked carefully, gesturing to his squad to stand down.  

“Comms are back up,” Juliana said, expression full of loathing. “ExoGeni wants to purge the colony.” She tightened her grip on Lizbeth, who shifted uneasily, eyes on Jeong. The remaining scientists watched warily, some taking cover, none offering assistance.  

 Jeong shot her a poisonous look. “Everyone shut up. Just shut _up_ and let me think!”

“You can’t _do_ it Jeong,” Juliana said forcefully.

The barrel of Jeong’s pistol came to rest on Shepard. “This is all your _fault_! Why couldn’t the geth just _kill_ you?”

Shepard glared at the pistol, resisting the urge to grab the gun and pistol whip him with it. Instead, he forced his voice to remain calm. “I know about the thorian,” he said.

Lizbeth panicked. “I’m sorry, we didn’t know—”

“Of course you knew,” Shepard interrupted, tone rising sharply. “All of you knew. You put your own people at risk just to see what would happen.” The downcast eyes and shuffling of feet confirmed his guess.

“Nobody’s going to miss a few colonists,” Jeong sniffed.

“Stand down,” Shepard said coldly. “I _will_ kill you. This is your last chance.”

For half a beat, the lines around Jeong’s eyes softened, posture wilting. But then something arrogant solidified in his desperate eyes, returning the defiant crease to his brow. His grip tightened on the pistol so subtly that to the untrained eye it might have been no more than a deep breath.

Shepard’s bullet pierced him between the eyes before Jeong even registered the danger, killing him before he hit the ground. Gasps of dismay quickly broke into moans. Several scientists looked away.

Juliana stared at the still corpse, trembling. “You killed him!”

Shepard holstered his weapon, grimacing as the coppery tang of blood and loosened bowels hit his nostrils. “People like that are a danger to everyone,” he muttered. He looked from Jeong up to Juliana, whose expression mirrored Major Kyle’s after Shepard had dragged his ass out of the tunnels on Torfan, a mixture of awe and revulsion. It did not improve his mood.

“Right now my people are under attack by the colonists at Zhu’s Hope,” Shepard informed her, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m not losing them because some asshole with a misplaced set of priorities gets in my way.” He turned his gaze towards Lizbeth. “Will the thorian use the colonists to defend itself?”

She nodded, expression solemn, brown eyes wide.

Shepard worked his jaw. When they had walked into Zhu’s Hope he hadn’t exactly imagined mowing down all the survivors just to get out.  “Is there any way to sever its hold on them?”

She bit her lip, then shook her head.

“Nerve gas,” another voice spoke up. Shepard looked around to see Gavin Hossle, the scientist who’d needed a favor. The OSD that Tali had made for him was still tucked in Shepard’s pocket.

“And you just happen to have nerve gas lying around?”  Shepard asked.

Hossel shook his head. The man was young and cocky, or at least had been before the geth. “But we do have an insecticide that we used in the gro-labs,” he explained. “It contains trace amounts of Tetraclopine, a neuromuscular degenerator. It should act as a paralytic. Painful, but not fatal.”

“Still have to deploy it without gassing us in the process,” Shepard replied, brow furrowed.

“Concussion grenades,” Williams spoke up. “Alenko taught me a trick or two. I could probably modify one to deploy the gas.”

“How many grenades do we have left?” he asked, digging in his own pouch. Two. Garrus and Williams had four between them. Tali had a handful, but they were all tech mines that would take too much time to reprogram without a fight. Six total.

Shepard inhaled deeply. “Well. Going to have to make them count.”

~

The Mako rolled cautiously toward the sealed Zhu’s Hope access doors. No movement. Nothing on the scanner. On the surface nothing appeared to be amiss. Shepard drummed his fingers on the console.

“Shepard, I hate to ask this,” Williams said. “But how are we going to get back in? The colonists locked the door behind us, and from the sounds of it they aren’t exactly keen to welcome us back.”

Shepard smiled. “Alenko hacked the door systems.” Shepard held his breath as he input the algorithm, the same one that had bailed them out of a similar jam while serving on the _Tannenberg._ While salvaging a probe on Sharjilla they’d stumbled onto the base of operations for an asari slaver. Dantius, her name was. Upon discovery she’d ambushed Major Delahoussaye’s team, taking him, Alenko and three other marines hostage, along with her…cargo. Alenko had managed to upload a decryption protocol from inside the facility, allowing Shepard to get the door open without triggering the alarms. Shepard had dealt with Dantius much as he had just dealt with Jeong.

He just had to hope his LT had uploaded the corresponding decryption protocol on his end before the colonists turned on them.

A green light appeared on his console, and with an inward sigh of relief the oversized doors began to creak slowly open.  

He brought the Mako to an ungentle stop, then turned around to look at his crew. “We spare the colonists, understood? No live rounds unless the gas doesn’t work, or someone is actually in danger.”

They nodded, even Wrex, though his mottled lip quivered with a slight hint of irritation.

Shepard settled his helmet onto his head until the seals caught, then set the O2 scrubbers to recycle and locked out the atmosphere, sealing him off from any effects from the gas. When the others were ready he opened the Mako’s hatch. “Enough people have died today,” he muttered as he climbed out.

Eerie silence greeted them as they approached the barricade protecting the _Borealis_. There was no sign of the colonists, though Shepard could hear the distant hum of a power generator and the occasional gurgle from the aqueduct. Alenko had been busy. But now he was nowhere to be seen. A quick glance at his HUD confirmed both Alenko and Liara’s hardsuits were still on the network. According to their transponder signals they _should_ be right here in the colony.

Two sharp pops sounded to Shepard’s left. A high powered slug struck Shepard’s shields with a hiss, another buried itself in the stone behind his head. Two colonists rose from behind the barricade, a man and woman Shepard recognized from their initial arrival. Cold, blank expressions had carefully chiseled away their humanity, leaving behind a blank slate. _Thralls_ , Shepard thought to himself. _They’re nothing more than thralls_. And there was no way to know if even killing the thorian would restore them. _We might be risking our lives for nothing_.

It hadn’t been nothing to the people on Elysium. Eden Prime. He could recall a young boy on Mindoir who was glad someone from the Alliance had taken the risk, even if it had taken him a while to appreciate it.

Shepard spurred into action, hoping that if they had trouble hitting a slow moving target they wouldn’t know what to do with a high speed one. Using his mini-frame to judge the distance he lobbed the first grenade, which detonated with a sizzle right at the colonists’ feet. They hit the ground with two soft thuds, the woman’s head cracking painfully against the barricade on her way down. Shepard hurried past them, ignoring the toxic alarms in his HUD.

The salarian merchant, Arcelia and three other colonist waited for them in the shadow of the freighter. Shepard palmed another grenade and let it fly, triggering the detonation while it was still airborne and showering the colonists with a gossamer cloud of sulfuric vapor. Arcelia and the other humans dropped as easily as the first two.

Not the salarian.

A strangled shriek escaped his throat, bulbous fingers scrabbling at his neck as a thick, ebullition of white froth bubbled from his lips. Shepard stumbled, stopped and caught the gasping form as it fell, black eyes wide and straining in their sockets as rivulets of green fluid dribbled down the taper of his jaw.  

He glanced helplessly at Williams as she skidded to surprised halt, eyes widening in shock. The salarian’s spine arched away from Shepard’s supporting palm, body wrenching in sudden, twisting agony. One hand pawed at the commander’s hardsuit as a last, reedy breath forced itself from his lungs.

“Shepard!”

He pulled his eyes away from the body in his arms to glimpse movement from the top of the Borealis…and the barrel of a rifle pointed right at his heart.   

Garrus’ rifle popped.

“ _No_!”

An old man, the colony’s stand-in medic, tumbled off of the _Borealis’_ hull, hitting the ground at Shepard’s feet with a cold, unforgiving thud. Blood trickled from the perfect hole between his eyes.

“Damn it, Garrus!” Shepard yelled, swiveling back to look at the turian. He heard the resounding snap of another grenade – Williams – going off as she pushed past to continue the assault. Wrex and Tali followed without looking back.

Garrus’ sharp exhale was audible even over the comm. “He…had you in his sights.”

Through a wall of silence between them, Shepard heard loud and clear what he wanted to say. _It was you or him._    

Forgetting the colonists, Shepard strode over to the turian until they were toe to toe, forcing Shepard to look up. Behind the faceplate Garrus’ visor was little more than a blue smear over his left eye. When he spoke, Garrus actually flinched.

“One more body and I’m leaving your ass on this planet, understood?”

“Sir,” came the stiff reply.

A bullet whizzed past. A light on Garrus’ visor flashed. In the background Wrex bellowed, the colossal sound followed by the crunch of metal and the crackle of one of Tali’s ECM mines.

“Skipper!”   

Shepard turned in the direction of Williams’ voice, leaving the stunned turian behind. She had found a perch on the starboard side of the freighter and was providing occasional suppressive fire to allow Wrex and Tali to find flanking positions. A handful of colonists still guarded a crane, occasionally peering out of cover to fire off a few rounds.

“Got two mines left,” she reported. “If you can lure ‘em out, I’ll knock ‘em down.”

“Any sign of Alenko or T’Soni?”

She adjusted a seal on her helmet. “Negative. Looks like the colonists stashed them somewhere.”

Shepard exhaled, trying to force the tremor out of his hands. _He had you in his sights._ “I’ll give you a good shot. Make it count.”

“You’re gonna just charge on out there and hope they take the bait, aren’t you?”

“How’d you guess?”

She checked the rail extension on her rifle, then held it ready. “I’m a fast learner, sir.”

He grunted, then leaned into his comm. “Tali?”

“ _We’ve got the perimeter, sir. You’re clear. The remaining colonists are all over by that crane.”_

A flash of blonde hair crested the barricade by the crane. Macha Doyle.

_No more bodies._

He launched himself from cover. The heads of two colonists appeared, eyes hidden behind the sights of their weapons. A volley of bullets struck his shields with a harsh sizzle, creating a blue flare as the emitter bled the kinetic energy away. Williams’ grenade hit with a hiss and crackle, followed by two thuds.

Three left. Shepard could see the boots of one in a gap at the base of their makeshift barricade, a pile of hastily erected slag. It wasn’t much to speak of, but it had shielded them enough to avoid the brunt of the gas. Taking in a deep breath, he changed course directly towards the barrier, leaning his weight into his shoulder. More bullets pummeled his shields, a few of them breaching the kinetic barrier and biting into the ablative coating of his hardsuit.

He collided with the barricade in a shower of debris and sliding stone. Pain bloomed in his shoulder, radiating down his arm in a sharp, spearing lance. The momentum of his impact sent two colonists reeling, the third pinned under Shepard’s weight as he fell inward. William’s last grenade detonated right on cue, releasing a thick scud of gas. The three colonists shuddered and went limp.

A wave of nausea washed over him. Damaged suit seals.

The horizon shifted as Wrex lifted him off the ground and set him forcefully back on his feet, away from the gaseous cloud. Shepard blinked warily, body rocking forward as the krogan clapped him on the back with a heavy hand.

“Are you all right?” Tali asked, running up to him.

Shepard stood motionless for a moment, letting the world set itself right again, before answering. “I don’t think I recommend doing that,” he said finally, putting a hand to his head. His limbs felt heavy, but he appeared to still have control over them.      

“Hang on,” Williams said, walking slowly towards them, scanning the unconscious bodies. “Where’s Fai Dan?” 

Shepard glanced about the grounds. She was right – he wasn’t there.  

Tali’s sharp inhale directed Shepard’s attention to his right. Dan appeared from behind a generator, walking with a slow, labored gait, pistol out but held away from his body, as though he wanted to drop it but couldn’t get the message through to his fingers. Two more colonists flanked him, David Al Talaqani, the man who had greeted them at the docking port, and a woman he’d seen working on the aqueduct.  

They were out of grenades.

Shepard held up his rifle. “Back down, Dan. You don’t want to do this.”

“I can’t…stop,” he rasped. He grabbed the wrist holding the gun with his opposite hand, fingers white with effort. “It wants me to kill you.” 

“Where are my people?” Shepard demanded, holding up his rifle.

“She has them,” Dan said, hand holding the gun trembling dangerously. He laughed, the sound deeply unpleasant. “It gets in your head. I…tried to fight it. I’m their leader.” He gestured to Al Talaqani and the woman, who stared at Shepard with cold, lifeless eyes. “They _trust_ me.”

“Dan, I can help you,” Shepard said.

Very slowly the colonist shook his head, arms trembling, face contorted in pain. “Can’t help me. Help them.” With a sudden whiplike motion he turned the gun to himself and fired. Shepard took one futile step forward as a geyser of blood and gore spouted from Dan’s temple, arcing like a fountain as the body crumpled. Tali stifled a gasp.  For a moment the deadened eyes of the remaining colonists sprang to life, flashing with all-too human horror and recognition. Each took a tentative step backwards before clutching their heads as high, keening cries tore from their throats.

“We have to protect it,” Al Talaqani moaned, staggering towards Shepard with his gun raised, jerking like a marionette on a string.

“You don’t,” Shepard said, stepping to the side and away from his squad. With tremendous effort the two colonists changed course to follow him.

“I’m sorry,” Al Talaqani said before the pain in his face transformed into cold-blooded fury.

The bullets from Shepard’s rifle hit struck him in the chest, knocking him backwards and opening tiny holes across his body, all spraying bright cordons of blood like a leaking dam. The woman got two steps farther before Shepard mowed her down, the sharp stream of slugs slicing through her face, jawbone and fragments of teeth glittering beneath ribbons of shredded skin.

Silence fell.       

Shepard yanked off his helmet and threw it to the ground, where it rolled toward the limp hand of Macha Doyle, coming to a halt with a soft thunk against her fingers. He walked swiftly away from the mess, running a hand over the short bristles of hair on his head. No one dared speak.

“Tali,” Shepard said finally, trying to still the tremor threatening his voice. “Where are Alenko and T’Soni?”

“They…they should be right here,” Tali stammered, awkwardly thumbing through the readouts on her omnitool.  “I don’t understand…”

Shepard’s gaze fell on the crane poised next to the _Borealis ._ Its primary hook connected to a section of the freighter that had been carefully laid across the ground. Swirls of recently disturbed dust formed chaotic patterns around the perimeter of the metal. “Williams,” he barked, directing her towards the crane. Her eyes lit up when she caught on to his line of thought, and immediately stepped up to the controls. The crane powered to life with a groan, peeling the section away under the slow grind of gears to reveal a rectangle of darkness and the rim of a staircase descending into the substructure.

“They’re beneath us,” Shepard said with some shred of satisfaction. He stooped down to pick up his discarded helmet. “And they better still be alive when I find them.”

~

The staircase wound a long, steep descent into a network of tunnels. The thick, heavy air reeked of mold and decay, and as soon as they reached the bottom Shepard nearly gagged on an overpowering stench of rotting flesh.

Williams blanched. “What the hell is _that?”_

A deep rumble from below sent a tremor through the ground under their feet. Clouds of stone shook loose from their crevices in puffs of smoke, clattering to the ground like hailstones.

“ _That_ ,” Wrex informed them, “is going to be something worth fighting.”

The tunnel opened up into a massive chamber spanning several levels above them. Viewing galleries had been delved around its circumference along each level, each accessible by connective ramps. Below their feet yawned an ancient, dark abyss. Years of training picked up such details automatically, Shepard’s brain identifying exits and storing away any possible tactical advantages as naturally as breathing. It was a useful skill, especially with his primary attention drawn to a much, _much_ larger problem.

In the center of the chamber leered a colossal aggregate of amorphous flesh, suspended over the chasm by a fan of taut, tendinous cords, each one thicker than Shepard’s body and some significantly more so.  A mass of slick, writhing tentacles draped from the base of a gaping maw that slavered a thick, viscous fluid. With each sway of the tentacles a guttural belch released a wave of noxious odor reminiscent of decayed fruit.

“That’s going to be…problematic,” Garrus mused from behind him.  

Damp condensation had already begun to form on the ablative plating of Shepard’s hardsuit. Beads of sweat rolled down his back, the air so heavy it was hard to breathe. There may have been worse conditions for a fight, but none immediately came to mind.

“Nothing’s ever simple, is it?” Shepard muttered.

He took a few cautious steps into the chamber, eyeing the long tendrils anchoring the creature. Its baggy flesh shifted and throbbed as it became aware of their presence. The tentacles shivered, parted, and a thick sheet of mucus discharge vomited from its flexing maw, followed by a humanoid shape with an undulating crest.   _Liara_ , Shepard thought with a hiss through his teeth. But it wasn’t.

This asari was green, not blue, with narrow cheekbones and salient eyes that looked down on Shepard with cold, cruel calculation, the gossamer threads of the thorian’s slime still clinging to the tips of her crest. The ornate buckles and straps favored by huntresses decorated her black garb and she carried no weapon, but a well of blue biotic energy played about her fingers.    

“Stop,” she commanded, holding out one hand. Behind her the thorian pulsed and its connective tendrils shuddred, like a nerve cluster sending and receiving a message. “I speak for the Old Growth, as I did for Saren.”    

Shepard’s shoulders tightened. “What did he want?”  

“You stand before the thorian,” she said harshly. “You should be in awe!”

“Not likely,” Shepard replied evenly, hand resting on the pistol in his holster. “I want my people back. Now. Where are they?”

The green asari gestured grandly. “The meat awaits its decay,” she replied.

A quick check of his HUD confirmed their suit signatures were still active, though Alenko’s biofeed was marked with a red flag. Liara’s heart rate and respiration mirrored that of someone suspended in cryo freeze. But despite the fact their suit markers indicated they should be right here, they were nowhere to be seen in the cavernous chamber.  

 “You son of a bitch,” Williams murmured, taking a step forward. Shepard blocked her with one arm, the steady throbbing in his shoulder spiking white hot. A lingering tingle from the gas still hovered over his limbs.

“They haven’t harmed you,” Shepard said. “All we want is what Saren wanted. Let them go and tell me what I need to know.”

The asari sneered. “The Old Growth cares not for these scurrying invaders. Your lives are infinitesimal, meaningless, just like the ones who are gone. For many cycles before them we grew, feasting on their flesh. You will be no different.”

Shepard gestured towards the corridor from which they had come. “If we’re so damn meaningless, why bother with Zhu’s Hope?” He pointed at her. “And I’m pretty sure this emissary of yours isn’t some convenient mutation. Saren gave her to you, didn’t he? Which means you dealt with him. So like it or not, you’re dealing with me.”

The cavern shook as the creature pulsed again, more urgently this time.

“The one called Saren wished for knowledge of those who are gone,” the asari said, taking a few menacing steps forward. “The Old Growth listened to flesh for the first time in the long cycle. Trades were made. Then the ones without blood attacked the New Growth. Flesh that would tend the next cycle!”

“We have a common enemy,” Shepard said. “Give me what you gave him and I can use it against him. Make him pay for whatever harm he did to you.”

Uncanny light glinted in the asari’s eyes, and for a moment Shepard remembered the alien feeling of seeing the galaxy through the eyes of a prothean, twisting familiar shapes into something strange and unsettling as disparate minds strove to reconcile the same object. He almost pitied it.

“No more,” the asari declared. “The thorian is great. Your blood will feed the ground and nourish the new growth!”

Her body shivered, blue energy wreathing her in a deadly aura. Shepard reached for his assault rifle, the mass accelerator coming online with a vibrant whine. Williams, somehow one step ahead of him, spun up her gun with a sputter that ended in a hail of bullets. Gobbets of slivery flesh and slime spewed from the creature, whose flesh trembled with rage but seemed frustratingly uninjured by the assault.

Wrex took on the asari, pummeling her with a warp field, then lifted her off the ground with a welt of blue fire and hurled her against the nearest wall of the chamber with a bone-shattering crunch.

But she wasn’t the only creature stumbling about the great cavern. From the shadows of the surrounding galleries came chilling moans, followed by bipedal creatures like shambling corpses. They were humanoid only in the vaguest sense, with long claws for hands and sunken sockets with no eyes, framed by rotting flesh. They stank of mulch and putrefaction, stumbling with outstretched arms and gaping mouths lined with fangs.

“Oh _fuck_ this,” Williams declared, and turned her weapon away from the thorian’s inchoate mass to take aim on their newest threat. Wrex growled with eagerness and charged into their midst, sending them flying with powerful thrusts of his arms. One of them stopped in front of him, gurgled, then vomited a dark, viscous muck that splattered his armor and began to steam. The krogan bellowed in sudden pain and ripped at the ablative coating, exposing the padding underneath. Throwing the smoking armor aside he seized the zombie-like creature’s neck and snapped it with one brutal squeeze.

“Shepard!” Tali cried. “Those ligatures look like anchor points, some kind of nerve bundle or neural node. They’re all over this cavern. If we can destroy them maybe we can dislodge it!”

“Do it! Tali, mark everyone’s scanners. Everyone find a node!”

Shepard’s HUD lit up with markers, all at various locations and levels along the cavernous gallery. Shepard charged up a ramp to the second level. Two of the thorian thralls standing in his way dropped as he reached them, felled by slugs from Garrus’ rifle. He kept going until he reached the first marker, and looked up to see a swollen bag of flesh anchored to the wall by webs of sinuous tendrils. Setting his jaw Shepard fired, emptying a ceaseless stream of bullets, each recoil sending pain shooting up his arm until the overheat alarm tripped a warning in his HUD. The node erupted in gobs of meat and gristle drenched in a fetid slime, and below him the thorian shuddered, an agonized squeal escaping from some hidden orifice.

Shepard was aware of a distant plop, followed by a surprised exclamation from Garrus.

“Spirits, it’s another asai!” the turian shouted over the comm. “I think it’s a clone!”

“Put her down,” Shepard ordered, already heading for the next node. Wrex bulled his way in front, covered in gore and bellowing for more.

Each time Garrus dropped the clone another appeared, regurgitated from the thorian’s bloated paunch. Williams and Shepard focused on nodes, Wrex parted the shuffling thralls like water over a damn, corona writhing angrily as he lashed out again and again. The heat and cloying stench made Shepard’s stomach roll, environmental interface of his hardsuit running at max power and still failing to compensate. The network of ramps and levels was like navigating a maze, and around every curve was some new horror.

Shepard finally drove his rifle beyond its heat tolerances. The weapon screeched as the firing mechanism locked down, rendering it useless until the heat sinks recovered. He jammed it in the holster on his back and grappled for the shotgun, pelting the last node with slug after slug until it exploded in streams of pale green ichor.

As the last strand snapped the cavern shook with the thorian’s agonized cry, a sound so much bigger than the room they were standing that Shepard began to wonder if they had seen more than a small portion of the organism’s true size. It plummeted into the abyss below with a whoosh, ligatures flailing like whips as they disappeared below the edge.

Shepard propped the barrel of his shotgun against the ground and leaned on it like a cane, letting his damaged arm hang at his size. He gazed at the vacated space while his heart yammered in his ears. The creature was gone. Dead, hopefully. But with it may have gone both the answers needed and two of his crew.

God _damn_ this place.

“Commander!” Garrus said sharply. “Get down here!”

With a heavy sigh Shepard ran, biomonitors chirping a body temperature alert. He shut them off.

When he reached the ground level he found the turian and Tali standing in front of three flesh-colored pouches mounted to the wall, reminiscent of the thorian’s physiology but independent from it, like some kind of cocoon. Shepard remembered the spores the VI had spoken of and backed slowly away. Williams and Wrex came up behind them. The krogan’s sides heaved, but his blood red eyes remained sharp and savage.

One of the pods fractured, spilling a shape onto the ground. “Liara!” Shepard kneeled to the ground beside her. Thick, clear mucus dripped from her body, but her eyes fluttered open. “Quick,” he signaled to the others. “Get them out!”

He slid a hand behind Liara’s head. She twisted to the side retched, a violent shudder convulsing her slender frame. He held on until she was finished, anxiously searching her face.

“I swear…you won’t have to rescue me…every time,” she wheezed.

A slow smile spread across his face. Gently he helped her to her feet, one hand lingering on her shoulder a beat too long once she was steady.

The other two pods contained Alenko and the asari thrall. Alenko’s breath was shallow, eyes hazy and unfocused. Williams crouched beside him, ignoring the slime and throwing one of his arms around her shoulder.  

“Jesus, LT. Having a bad day?”

He groaned.

Garrus glowered at the asari as she lurched to her feet, putting a hand to her head. Unlike the green clones she had blue skin a few shades darker than Liara’s. Soft grey eyes looked out from a face bearing none of the animosity of the version of herself who had addressed them. She regarded them with a mixture of wonder and fear.  

“I must have killed you a dozen times,” Garrus said, rifle still ready in his hands. “What the hell is going on?”       

“It’s dead,” she said, as though she scarcely believed it. “I am free!”

“What happened?” Shepard demanded. “Who are you?”

“My name is Shiala,” the asari replied. “I serve… _served_ Matriarch Benezia. And Saren.”

Liara, making a futile effort to wipe away the thorian’s residue, stilled at the mention of her mother. “Where is she now?” she asked. “Why is she with him?”

Shiala blinked, gazing at Liara with curiosity, and possibly recognition. “Benezia…lost her way.”

“I don’t understand,” Liara argued, hands clenching into weak fists. She weaved on her feet, and Shepard’s hand returned to her shoulder. “Benezia is one of the most powerful matriarchs in the galaxy. She wouldn’t have just gone along with this. Something must have happened!”

Shiala’s expression turned almost to pity. “Saren is more powerful than you realize.” She turned back to Shepard. “You saw the beacon. Am I correct?”

( _machines that descend like locusts, speaking with red fire and the blowing of horns)_

Shepard swallowed. “Yes.”

“Then you carry a great gift. But it’s one neither you nor Saren can understand. He came to the thorian for the cipher. And such is his influence I…became a willing slave to help him get it.”

“Cipher?” Shepard demanded. “What cipher?”

Her smile gave Shepard chills. “Trying to explain it is like explaining color to a creature with no eyes. But in return for my life, I will show you.”

Shepard scrutinized her, then glanced around at his crew before returning his gaze to Shiala. “I don’t understand.”

 But Liara did. “She wants to meld with you,” she said, her tone almost accusing. “Asari control over our nerve impulses allows us to merge with the nervous systems of others. It’s an…intimate connection. But it will allow her to transfer thoughts, ideas, without need for words.”

“Is it safe?” he asked, scowling at Shiala.

“Yes,” Liara said reluctantly, blue eyes narrow and void of expression.

Briefly his hand tightened on her shoulder before he let go. “Then do it.”   

Shiala stepped closer. Garrus, Wrex and Williams all renewed their grip on their weapons, but Shepard waved them down.

“Try and relax, Commander,” she said softly, and Shepard felt his heart rate speed up. “To meld with me you must open your mind, look for the strands that connect us to one another.” She covered his hands, which still clutched his rifle, with her own. Blue fire rippled under her palms, and Shepard felt a tingle run through his body, setting his nerves alight. Leaning her face close, she smiled a vacant smile, pupils expanding into wide, dark pools. Her voice, soft and distant, echoed in his ear.

“Embrace eternity.”

The gun fell from his hands.        


	23. Iunctura

Ashley Williams inhaled deeply as the outer airlock door closed off Feros’ stench. Recirculated air had never smelled so good. Granted, it was hard to get the full effect covered in the refuse of that fucking _plant_ , but even the _hint_ of something not infused with that swampy, oppressive muck was a welcome development.

The relief was lost on Alenko, however. The LT leaned heavily against her, grimacing against the light of the airlock. Beads of sweat rolled down his clammy, pale skin.

“How ya doing there, killer?” she asked.

He mumbled something in reply. Ashley’s gaze slid to her left, where Liara stood with her arms clasped loosely in front of her, brow furrowed as she gazed off into space, completely oblivious to them as droplets of sludge pooled at her feet. Ashley sighed. Shepard had sent her back to the _Normandy_ with the thorian-slimed biotics, keeping Wrex, Garrus and Tali with him to help get the colonists up and put Zhu’s Hope back together. If it could be put back together. The loss of Fai Dan would hurt. But Shiala, oddly, had expressed interest in remaining behind. To make things right, she had said, if there was anything you could do to make _that_ shit right. Shepard seemed too exhausted to care much about her motivations.  

Whatever she had done to the commander had thrown him for one hell of a loop.

When Shiala had let him loose he’d been quiet and drawn, forehead knotted with tension and his normally vivid eyes flat and grey. He’d said nothing, merely gave his orders and set everyone to a task. Ashley was dying to ask what had happened, what it felt like to have an asari crawling around in your brain like a bug, but for once in her life she kept her mouth shut. When she’d left him he’d been sitting on a crate, staring fixedly at the ground, as if keeping himself upright required all of his concentration.

The inner airlock door opened with a whir, followed by a rush of cool air and the sound of Joker’s voice.

“Jesus effing _Christ_ what the hell have you been in to?”

The irascible pilot stood on the other side of the hatch, waving a hand in front of his nose. Pressly quickly brushed him aside, causing him to scramble to hold on to his crutches. “Easy there, old man. Jeez, do I need to wear a handicap sign on my ass?”

Williams stifled a laugh, but Pressly ignored him. “Lieutenant. Is everyone all right?”

Alenko grunted.

“That means yes,” Ashley explained. “More or less. I think this one needs some rack time though, sir.”

“Where’s Shepard?” Pressly’s nose twitched, eyes watering in a herculean effort not to let on how bad the stench was.

“Helping revive some colonists,” she told him. “There were, uh, complications. And spores.”

“ _Spores?”_

She grinned. “I’m sure he’ll fill you in. In the meantime, I think we’d be doing everyone a favor if we got cleaned up.”

Pressly backed hastily away. Joker just shook his head, swinging around and heading back to the cockpit.

“Come on, LT,” Ashley said to the ailing lieutenant. “And in case you’re wondering, no I’m never going to let you live down having your ass carried down to the medbay after being beaten up by a geranium.”

“It was hardly…a geranium,” he grimaced, “and if you don’t stop _talking_ I’m going to hit you with a biotic field.”

She snorted. “I’d love to see you do that without throwing up all over your feet. Face it Alenko, you’re the damsel in distress and I’m your knight in shining armor.”

He mumbled something in response. She didn’t think it was praise.

Every crew member manning the galaxy map swiveled their heads when the thorian’s stench hit their nostrils, gaping at the dripping marines as they passed through the CIC. Ashley grinned and waved, very aware of the treads of thorian muck their boots left along the pristine deckplates. “Navy pretty boys,” she said under her breath. “I’d love to see just one of them with a mouthful of sludge in those perfect teeth.”

“For the love…of God. Shut. _Up._ ”

Dr. Chakwas met them at the bottom of the stairs and quickly escorted Alenko into the med bay. “Triptons not working?” she asked.

Instead of replying Alenko hoisted himself onto one of the medical beds and leaned his head heavily into his hands, teeth gritted. Ashley bit her lip, watching the lines of his face gnarl and twist. Dr. Chakwas reached for a wall panel and dimmed the lighting. After a long silence Alenko wearily fingered the seals of his chestplate, sliding them open with a hiss and pulling the armor away to reveal a white undershirt underneath. Ashley reached out and took the armor from him, glad she still wore her gauntlets so she couldn’t feel the slowly drying slime.

“Need some help?” she asked.

“No,” he said, tugging off his own gauntlets. “I just need somewhere dark. And silent. I’ll be fine.”

“You can have my office,” Dr. Chakwas told him. “There’s a cot in there. I’ll see to it you aren’t disturbed.”

He nodded gratefully and heaved slowly back to his feet, still wearing the lower half of his hardsuit. Ashley turned to go. “Chief,” she heard him say with effort. She looked back over her shoulder.

“Thanks,” he said.

She smiled, but this time with sympathy. “Any time, LT.”

~

From the medbay Ashley trudged to the head. Free of her duties she now wanted nothing more than a hot shower and something to eat. Once she’d done that she planned to spend about eight years in a sleeper pod.

Outside the door she could already hear the echo of water splattering against tile. Inside steam curled outward from the shower bay, a thin layer of condensation already growing on the mirrors over the sinks. A thorian-encrusted Predator hardsuit rested in a pile by the corner, dripping a brackish puddle on the floor. She sighed a little. There had not been much opportunity for Ashley to chat with Liara at all before deploying on Feros. Naked in the shower wasn’t exactly her first choice for a bonding session. She thought about waiting until the asari was done, but the idea of remaining in her own skin for one second longer was too disgusting to entertain.

Piece by piece she shucked off her armor, creating enough noise to make her presence known. She heard Liara shuffle her feet, clear her throat a little.

Ashley tugged at the pins fastening her thick, long hair into a military approved bun and let it swing free past her shoulders. Her helmet might have spared it the slime, but it was still oily and matted with sweat. Few times in her life had she been quite this thankful to get clean.

She stepped into the bay, smiling thinly at the asari. _Don’t say anything stupid._

Liara smiled briefly then turned her back, letting the water from the running shower head hit her in the face. Ashley wrinkled her nose as thin streams of water flipped off the curved tip of her skull crest and flicked her in the eye.

Goddamned tentacle heads and their goddamned perfect skin. There wasn’t a blemish to be seen anywhere on the woman, and unclothed Ashley saw that in places around her chest and along her thighs the shading of her sky blue coloring changed ever so slightly, like glass held up to a warm light. It was downright fucking radiant.

After a few hundred years of progress in women’s equality, humanity gets to the stars only to find the master race of perfect Amazon women waiting for them, just as likely to dance half naked on a bar as they were to kill you with goddamned _space_ magic.

She turned on a second shower head and sighed as the water hit her body, clattering off the dog tags around her neck and washing the stink of the thorian out of her skin. Turning her back to the spray she slicked her hands down the length of her hair, kneading until it was saturated.

“I’m sorry if this is personal,” Liara said suddenly, and Ashley turned to see the doctor giving her a curious look.

“What?” Ashley said warily. Modesty was not one of her qualities – the marines quickly saw to that – but in front of the asari she felt uncharacteristically exposed.

“Human… _hair._ Is it hard to…care for?”

Ashley let out a bark of laughter and reached for a shampoo bottle. “Dr. T’Soni, you just managed to hit on one of the unique problems of being a human woman.”

She tilted her head to the side. “I did?”

“Imagine looking for the perfect facial tattoo, but having to redo it every _day._ And the unrealistic expectation of getting it perfect every time.” She squeezed a glob of shampoo onto her palm and lathered up her head. “Nothing ruins a girl’s day faster than a bad hair day. Unless you’re a marine, in which case it’s not your job to look impressive.”

Liara seemed to consider this for a moment. “Yours is…longer than most I’ve seen. Is that a genetic outlier? Anomaly of some kind?”

“I’m too lazy to pick up a scissors,” Ashley replied.

Her eyes flicked lower on Ashley’s body, and in a moment of horror the gunnery chief could see another question brewing on her lips. A fierce blush set her skin on fire. She was amazed the water didn’t steam off her skin. “That’s normal too,” she said hastily, resisting the urge to cover herself. “And it’s not a gender thing.”

“Humans are very…modest about their sexuality,” Liara observed.

“Yeah,” Ashley grumbled. “That’s why you don’t see as many of us grinding our ass against a stripper’s pole.” She winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth, even more so when Liara’s eyes widened in shock. _So much for not saying anything stupid._ “Sorry,” she said hastily. “That was… _really_ uncalled for. I didn’t mean it.”

“Of course,” Liara murmured, turning away once more. Ashley resisted the urge to beat her head against the wall.

“Charm is not one of my virtues,” she said with a sigh. “In fact, I think we can extend that to polite conversation in general.”

Liara didn’t answer, and Ashley mentally berated herself. How many times had her father lectured her about running her brain through a filter before she let something pop out of her mouth?

Soap dribbled in her eyes, and she stabbed them with a finger trying to rinse it out. In the uncomfortable silence the hiss of water off tiles became louder than the roar of a train.

She twisted the knob until the water ran hotter, turning her skin an angry red. A heavy blanket of steam billowed up between her and the silent asari. Ashley couldn’t help but crane her head every now and then to glance over at her, tongue tied up around another apology that sounded stupider every time she ran it through that supposed brain filter.

Once she’d told her dad she never thought before she spoke because by thinking about it too hard her thoughts started sounding alien and unfamiliar. Like she was running them through someone else’s filter. Sure it might save her some grief, but some part of the real Ashley Williams got left out. The way she saw it, if someone was going to dislike you, might as well get it out of the way right off the bat.

“Do you have any idea how long before the others return?” Liara asked, startling Ashley to the point she nearly slipped on wet tile.  

“Um. Depends on how long it takes to bring the colonists around and get things sorted out.”

“I see,” she replied, that distracted look coming back to her face. She shut off the water and stepped out of the shower bay, reaching for a towel hanging on the wall.  

 _She was asking about Shepard_ , Ashley realized. Something about that freaky thing Shiala had done to him was bothering her. _Christ_ , she wondered. Was the asari _jealous?_

 Maybe the blue scientist was more interesting than Ashley gave her credit for.

~

Garrus reached that crucial tipping point of too exhausted to sleep somewhere between the thorian and the cleanup, and by the time he reached the _Normandy_ had gone right on past it. So after getting cleaned up he’d joined the efforts of Dubyansky and Corporal Tucks in the cargo bay, winching down straps and locking down wheels to secure the Mako back to its moorings. Every muscle and plate on his body hurt, but by this point he felt too tired to complain. Or too tired to feel it. He wasn’t sure which.

“Tough go, sir?” Dunyansky asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of his voice.

“I’ve had more pleasurable experiences, yes.”

Emboldened, Tucks chimed in with a question of his own. “What the hell was that thing down there?”

The turian considered the question for a moment before replying. “Cranky.”

Truth was, only Shepard had any real inkling what the hell the thorian was. The commander had said very little after his experience with Shiala, restricting conversation to giving orders and seeing they were followed. And he hadn’t spoken to Garrus at all. Something always needed his attention when Garrus cleared his throat to speak, or he had some matter too convenient to be a coincidence to attend to on the other side of the camp. Eventually Garrus took the hint.  

 _Did I have another choice?_   The grief stricken wails of Calantha Blake when she awoke to find her husband was dead would ring in his mind for a long time.  Garrus was responsible for that grief. He played it over and over in his mind, spotting Hollis on the roof, seeing the glint of metal in his hands. Garrus knew a perfect shot when he saw one, and his visor had informed him the high powered rifle in his hands was enough to get through Shepard’s shields. Lobbing a grenade would have meant one less for later. The body count could have been double the final number if he hadn’t fired.

But if he was honest with himself none of that had occurred to him until _after_ he’d taken the shot, scrambling for justification under Shepard’s harsh scowl. The truth was he’d just… _reacted._ Followed his gut. His instincts rarely let him down, and before Shepard that small error margin was well within what he deemed an acceptable range.

But since meeting Shepard, nothing seemed acceptable.

He could hear his father chiding him in his ear, lecturing about leaping first, looking later. According to C-Sec his duty would have been to protect the colonists at all costs. But he wasn’t with C-Sec anymore. He was with Shepard. A Spectre. The rules didn’t apply.  

He was _right_. Wasn’t he?

The two crewmembers looked poised to keep pressing their luck for information until the hulking shadow of Wrex appeared. It was one of the few times Garrus was thankful to see him. Dubyansky and Tucks immediately clammed up and worked faster. Garrus was willing to bet whenever the krogan was around, efficiency skyrocketed.  

“Get out,” Wrex said once they had finished. They were all too happy to oblige.

“Thanks,” Garrus said, climbing down from the combustion manifold. “The last thing I want to do after nearly being murdered by zombies and eaten by a giant plant is to talk about nearly being murdered by zombies and eaten by a giant plant.”

The krogan grunted, roving past him on the way to the alcove he’d set up for himself. Garrus didn’t know what an exhausted krogan looked like, but if such a thing existed this might be it. He picked up a toolkit and crouched by the front axle, scouting out the damage that Tali had assessed on the skyway.

“Do you have to do that now?” Wrex growled.

“Too tired to sleep,” Garrus replied.

“Turians,” the krogan muttered.

Garrus continued working for a few moments, listening to the krogan shuffle around. “You know,” he said, tilting his head. “It’s the pinnacle of irony that you’re the one who came out of that fiasco with the colonists with a zero body count.”

There was a pause, then a scuffle as Wrex shoved his armor crested head into view, lip curled just enough to reveal a row of razor sharp teeth.

“It’s a lot easier to think of all krogan as savage monsters, isn’t it?” he said, red eyes glinting.

“Well,” Garrus stuttered. “You have to admit your people don’t go out of their way to dispel the stereotype.”

The krogan’s great head shook back and forth slowly, lip dropping but eyes never losing their hardened edge. “Go home, turian.  Stay out in the real world long enough and you might have to learn something.”

Garrus’ mandible quivered. After a moment he cleared his throat. “That…seems to be a common thread I’ve been encountering lately.”

Wrex’s eyes darted briefly back and forth, then to Garrus’ surprise he chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that nearly shook the room. “Stay close to Shepard, kid. One day you might be all right.”

~

Liara stood outside Shepard’s quarters, kneading her hands nervously. _This is not the right time_ , she thought. Shepard had only been back onboard for a few hours. The only people he’d spoken to were Dr. Chakwas and Navigator Pressly, the former to check on Lt. Alenko and the latter to issue orders and reassure the older man things were under control. From there he had disappeared into his quarters and had yet to emerge.

Not that she could really blame him. Every muscle in her body burned, including a few dozen she didn’t know she had. Every joint ached. Even her _bones_ felt sore, a deep, unreachable throb that couldn’t be assuaged. And from the looks of things Shepard’s team had had it much worse than she and Alenko.

If you counted being entombed inside a fleshy sac as _better_. From the litany of dead and unconscious colonists waiting for them upon emerging from the thorian’s lair, she thought she did.

She should be resting. Had even headed towards the sleeper pods to do exactly that. But her feet had stopped her near his door, and now here she was.    

She raised her hand to the door chime, then hesitated. _What if he’s asleep?_ He’d looked only marginally better than she felt after returning to the _Normandy_. Goddess knew he needed sleep, too.

He wouldn’t be asleep. She knew it as sure as she was breathing. Not after the meld.

Fresh heat rose to her cheeks, and her fingers curled in distaste. _Shiala_. A tool of her mother’s, of _Saren_ , and yet Shepard had just given her access to what Liara had coveted the moment she’d set foot on board the ship, and in return Shiala given him what Liara had been rescued to help provide. Anger, shame, even jealousy wove a jumbled knot in her stomach, making it impossible to sleep.

She needed to talk to him. She needed to _know._ Shiala had been with her mother. Whatever she had known about her mother’s intentions Shepard now knew too, and while she wasn’t sure she wanted the truth she couldn’t wait any longer to hear it. And the cipher…

The cipher was the key to unlocking some of the prothean mysteries she’d been chasing her entire life, she _knew_ it was, and now that information was swimming around in Shepard’s head. A dull, childlike excitement flip flopped in her stomach. Whatever the thorian had known about them, whatever information it had imparted to Shiala and now to Shepard, she wanted to share. 

Before she could change her mind she hit the door chime, bit her lip, and waited. _You silly, foolish girl._

The door lock whirred, and she heard his muffled voice from the other side of the door.

“Come in.”

The door slid open and she stepped inside, hands behind her back, fingers fidgeting.  The room was dimly lit – purposefully, she guessed – and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. She took in the bare walls, the bland furnishings – little more than a bed with a nightstand, desk, table and chairs. Every surface was clean. The bed neatly made.

Shepard stood in the middle of the room, holding a datapad, watching her. She had expected to find him sitting, maybe even lying in bed. At some point he’d managed to get cleaned up – he was back in his Alliance regs, a fresh black bruise spreading down his right arm below his sleeve. His armor, spotless, sat in a corner, folded and ready to be stored. Guiltily she thought of the smeared, dripping hardsuit she’d stuffed in her locker. Later she needed to find a cleaning kit.

 “Liara,” he said, and she couldn’t tell if he was pleased to see her or not. “How are you doing?”  

His voice lacked the weariness she expected. In fact she didn’t see any evidence of fatigue at all. His expression was attentive, posture relaxed. Even his eyes seemed clear and sharp at first glance, though once she looked closer there was something amiss behind his blue irises.

“I’m…fine,” she said, surprised at how easily he threw her off guard.

He laid the datapad on his desk. “What can I do for you?”

And there it was. Just a slight hitch in the tenor of his voice, uncovering the lie his body tried to tell.  

“How do you feel?” she asked.

He cocked his head slightly, as though the question hadn’t occurred to him before now. “The experience was…not what I was expecting,” he said, then offered her a lopsided smile. “Though I don’t really know what I _was_ expecting, to be honest.” 

“The joining can be taxing,” she said carefully. “Especially the first time.”

Shepard folded his arms across his chest. For a moment he held her gaze, then sighed a little and wandered over to the small table. “Yes,” he said after a while.

Liara inhaled a deep breath. “I should go. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have disturbed –”

“Liara,” he said, eyes once more finding her face. The kindness she remembered from waking up in the med bay after Therum had returned. “It’s all right. I don’t mind. You want to know about the cipher. The protheans. Your mother. I understand.”

“It can wait,” she said, though deep down she was just _begging_ for him to insist that she stay. Her heart skipped a beat when he gestured to a chair by the small table. She sat, wondering if she was imagining the small sigh of relief as he did the same.

“It’s all still a little jumbled,” he confessed, running a hand over his head and grimacing, glancing at his injured arm in irritation.

“Do you need to have that looked at?” Liara asked, pointing to the bruise.

He offered her a wry smile. “Not if you want to hear about the cipher.”

She closed her mouth and he smirked.

“Shiala doesn’t know where your mother is,” he informed her, and she tried to conceal her disappointment. “Saren was very…deliberate in not revealing his plans. She knew nothing beyond what he wanted on Feros.”

“The cipher,” Liara supplied.

Shepard nodded.

“What is it?”  

He leaned back in his chair, started to reach his arms behind his head, stopped when his shoulder protested, and dropped them in his lap instead. His eyes drifted away from her again, jaw working, and she realized that he didn’t know how to answer her. It was a position she got the feeling he wasn’t used to being in.

“It’s a key,” he said at last. “Or at least I think it is. The thorian was here on Feros long before the protheans showed up.” He shuddered. “To be that old, that… _lonely._ ”

“I’ve never heard of a species with that kind of lifespan,” Liara said, leaning her elbows on the table.

“It lived in cycles,” he explained. “Periods of activity followed by a long dormant phase. It doesn’t know the reapers. I think it…slept through them. Woke up to find the protheans were just gone.”

She almost spoke, but the way he scowled at the table, lost inside his own thoughts, kept her silent. His mouth quirked, gaze focused but unseeing as he looked for a way to string together what he wanted to say. She waited.

“It didn’t live with the protheans but rather…sort of around them, I think. It watched them. When the opportunity arose it _absorbed_ them.” He looked up at her, blue eyes sharp as crystal. “Just like it was going to do with you, Alenko and Shiala. Once it finished with her.”

Now it was Liara’s turn to shudder. Her thoughts raced back to that dark, damp cocoon the thorian had imprisoned her inside and the brooding thoughts that had smothered her in there.

Shepard’s gaze wandered again. “I don’t really understand what the thorian was or how it worked. But whatever it took from the protheans is…part of it somehow. Their essence, memories…like some kind of eidetic ancestral memory.”

Understanding dawned on her. “Prothean beacons were designed for prothean physiology. They directly interface with the user’s mind…and because we don’t share their neural patterning, we don’t understand.”

Shepard nodded. “The cipher imprints the necessary pathways to decipher the message, so to speak.”

“Incredible,” she breathed, feeling a new surge of excitement. “Did it work? Do the images you saw make more sense to you?”    

He shut his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No. She said it would take time. I’ve got so much prothean, asari and thorian… _things_ floating around in my head right now I have no idea which is which. I have no context for any of it.” He huffed a disgruntled breath, brow furrowed. “I miss the days when it was just me in here.”

She tilted her head slightly, taking in the agitated tremor in his hand when he set it on the table. There was a wry smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes. “I hadn’t thought of it like that,” she said softly. “It must be overwhelming.”

“It’s not allowed to be,” he snapped, hand curling into a fist. “We have to stop him. Nothing else matters.”

She tilted her head, heart beating a little faster. “I don’t know much about the thorian, but when it comes to asari and protheans, I have a fair amount of experience. As you pointed out, I’m…older than I look.”

He raised his eyes to hers, and she leaned forward in her seat, offering him a small smile. “Let me help.”     

The look he gave her was wary, his uncanny gaze burning a hole right through her. Her confidence wavered. _Your timing could_ not _be worse,_ she scolded herself. The last thing a person like Shepard was going to want to do after exposing himself in a meld to a stranger was to immediately do it again. But she knew he would. If it would bring him closer to his goal, he would. He was too driven not to.  

And as uncomfortable as the thought made her, she was pretty sure that’s why she was suggesting it. Because he couldn’t say no.

“Very well,” he said at last, his voice soft, almost defeated. “If you think it will help us find him.” He got reluctantly to his feet. She did the same, approaching him with her heart hammering in her ears.

“Relax, Commander,” she said softly, reaching her hand towards him. To her surprise he reached up and caught it, his grip exuding intense warmth against her cool skin. A sharp thrill raced through her. They were inches apart, close enough to smell the soap from his shower and see a small scar above his lip she hadn’t noticed before.   

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice filling her with dread. “It’s…a lot to take in.”

“I’m sure,” she said, suddenly finding it hard to even breathe. Reluctantly he let go, allowing her to place her hand against his cheek. Her nerves began to sing, buzzing as they sensed the vibrant hum under his skin.

“ _Embrace eternity,”_ she whispered. Her eyes locked to his. The world around her dimmed, bleeding away as a powerful current sprang to life between them, locking their minds together in a sizzling collision of consciousness.

~

_The first thing she feels is the crushing loneliness. Shepard is right. The thorian is old, so old she fears that trying to comprehend it might destroy her. There is cold, there is emptiness, there is rage it has nursed for centuries. Abandonment, pain, arrogance, domination…so strong and potent it drags her down into a violent vortex she cannot resist._

_But he is there, and takes her hand._

_Even here, in the depths of his mind where he is most exposed, there is a sense of invulnerability to him that astounds her._

_She can feel them, the protheans, the people she has reached out and tried to touch her entire life. They discover, they dream, they explore, build. Feros, once green, wide and empty becomes a hive of strength, height, dominance over the elements, a tribute to pride. They know not of the thorian, even though it watches, waits, unimpressed by their might. The first time they stumble upon it she can feel its greed as it reaches out to take them, steal their very being to be part of its own. It is hungry for something new after centuries of solitude and seclusion. They resist, violently and in vain. But even behind the filaments of their terror is a sense of wonder and awe. Terrible as the thorian is, there is something alluring about it. A sense of immortality as they become one with its flesh._

_Shepard is repulsed by this cannibalism, even though the cipher is its fruit. The collective experience of a dead race, sitting like a key in a lock, Shiala’s guiding hand ready to twist._

_Liara reaches out, eager to unlock it, but Shepard stops her. Look, he says. Listen. So Liara does. She can feel Shiala, the audacity she bears that is born of Saren and_

_(Benezia)_

_that drives her to enter the thorian willingly. For the first time Liara becomes aware of something that terrifies her, some fundamental wrongness about the asari, like a disease spreading slowly, undetected and unchecked._

_Shiala’s mind is not her own._

_There are whispers in it, like talons scraping at her ear, gnawing at her thoughts, deluding her to believe they are her own. They echo the words of Saren in her ears, sickly, overpowering doctrines of madness, but to Shiala they are absolute, unassailable._

_Do you hear it? Shepard asks._

_Yes, she replies._

_Don’t listen._

_He is beside her, warm and reassuring, and she surrounds herself with him. She can shut out the whispers if she tries. But she knows now her mother did not._

_(could not?)_

Mother _,_ how did this happen?

 _(Benezia…lost her way_ )

_Liara can see that here, can feel it in ways that make her skin crawl. Shiala worships her mother, the mother that Liara knows, who is strong, beautiful, indomitable. Her unwavering faith is what led her down into this darkness, this hell that gifted her so gladly to the thorian’s embrace._

_Through Shiala’s imprint she glimpses Saren’s fierce will, discovers her mother’s wish to temper it, assert her influence and guide him to safe paths. But Liara understands her mother better than Shiala does, reads between the lines that she cannot. Her mother’s intentions seem pure, noble perhaps, but underneath them she hopes to sap some of his power along the way and wield it herself._

_She has failed._

_Those whispers…_

_She teeters on the brink of falling, succumbing to that horrible murmur, but again Shepard is there and pulls her to safety._

_Your mother didn’t know, he tells her. She didn’t understand until it was too late._

_Too late. Maybe it isn’t too late. Maybe they can still stop her. Pull her back from the abyss, wash her clean of Saren’s taint._

_Shepard doubts. He tries to hide it, but she feels it. There is so much she can see and feel here._

_In desperation she throws open a floodgate of memories, desperate to show him that Benezia is not a monster. She is not evil. The current is so swift for a moment they are both swept off their feet._

_She is a child, seated at her mother’s feet, playing with the hem of her dress as she speaks with matriarchs and priestesses. Late at night she sneaks into her mother’s room and pilfers her elegant headdress, donning it proudly but crookedly on her head as she roams her bedroom, imitating her mother with sweeping gestures of her arms as she imparts her wisdom to the play dolls arranged in a line on her bed._

_Now they stand in the temple of Athame, Liara’s hands pressed flat against the glass of the display cases, standing on tiptoes as she listens to her mother tell her stories about the artifacts. She can feel her mother’s smile through her fingers as they stroke the top of her head, an affectionate gesture usually reserved for the privacy of their home._

_They walk through the gardens surrounding their estate in Serrice, her small hand clasped in her mother’s firm grip, smelling the fresh scent of alstromeria in bloom. Her mother hums, a soothing melody Liara has never forgotten, the only one she ever learned on the piano Benezia tried so hard to make her play. She thinks even the birds are jealous._

_I’m sorry, she feels Shepard say, and somehow his pity is worse than everything that has happened to bring them here._

_She slams the door on her memories, and once again she is surrounded by crushing confusion, a hurricane of half understood thoughts. He has shown her the thorian, shown her Shiala, but he has barred the door to what she really came here to see._

_You have to let me in, she tells him. I can help you. I have to see._

_She feels his hesitation…or is it apprehension?_

_Then she understands. If he opens the door, he fears he won’t be able to close it again._

_She caresses his mind, a touch so much deeper than mere physical contact, and he curls into it. For a moment – just a moment – he weakens, weariness surging to the forefront, and she catches a glimpse of what lies behind those powerful eyes._

_He is at home on the battlefield, but here, inside the trappings of his own consciousness, she is the warrior._

_I’m here, she whispers, drawing him tighter.  We will close it together._

_He opens the floodgates, and she screams._


	24. Corpora Numerandum

Silence surrounded them when the walls of Shepard’s quarters rematerialized. The cacophony in Liara’s head stilled, and though Shepard still stood agonizingly close, without the connection to his mind he felt light years away. They said nothing, his eyes searching hers with a hint of anxiety hidden behind his quiet composure. She felt her balance wobble ever so slightly. Immediately his hand was on her arm.

“You’ve been carrying that vision around in your head since Eden Prime?” she asked finally, the memory of that blood soaked horror rattling around uncomfortably in her brain, dimming quickly without the meld.

“Yes,” he said, gaze steady.

“I’m sorry.”

His hand released her arm like she’d slapped it. “I don’t need your pity,” he said with uncharacteristic harshness. “I need answers.”

She bit her lip, the force of his reaction taking her by surprise. _What did I do?_

“The beacon was a warning,” she stammered. “The reapers…in their final days the protheans were trying to do something.”

“Save themselves?” he asked, beginning to pace the room, perhaps from frustration, perhaps to put more distance between them.

She shook her head. “I think it was too late for them.”

“Then what?”

She fought to swim through the muddled sea of images in her mind. _I have no context for any of it,_ Shepard had said. She did, and it was still almost more than she could process. How long could someone tread water in something like that until they finally drowned? She shuddered, hoping she never had to find out.

_The conduit to salvation._ The same words from the archives were right there in Shepard’s head. He just hadn’t been able to decode them. “They did something,” she said slowly, thoughts moving too fast for her to give voice to them all. “Found some way to close whatever door the reapers came through. They knew they couldn’t save themselves but they thought…”she looked up, eyes welling with tears. The sadness of it was just _unbearable_. “They thought they could save whoever came next.”

“How?” he demanded, coming to a standstill and turning his head towards her, still carefully keeping her at arms’ length. “What is the conduit?”

Liara put her hands to her head. There was so much swirling in her mind she thought her skull might split open. So many pieces, but there still weren’t _enough_. “I don’t know,” she admitted at last. “The vision you had was jumbled, broken…incomplete.”

Shepard swore.

“Something they did has prevented the reapers from returning,” she said. “Whatever it was, the conduit was the key.”

“And Saren wants to find it and use it to open the door,” Shepard said grimly.

“He’s holding my mother’s mind hostage,” Liara said quietly. He stared at her, still as stone. “The whispering,” she said. “I know you heard it. You…told me not to listen.”

He worked his jaw. She could see his mind racing, the doubt on his face as he searched hers. _Trying to decide how much more I saw,_ she realized. _If I caught a glimpse of things he didn’t want me to see._

She had.

Beneath the layers of confusion and terror was something else, something equally potent, but so bitter and angry she’d been afraid to touch it. Fire, pain, _blood_. Not so different at first glance than the vision from the beacon, and easy to overlook. But everything about the prothean images were unrestrained, uncontrolled, like a fresh wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. This was something deeper, older, and far more personal than the prothean genocide.

_There was a woman, older, seen through the eyes of a child, with auburn hair and a smile in her voice. She sang when she thought no one was listening, a voice that she scoffed at but Shepard thought was beautiful._

_There was a man, worn and weathered, stern but respected, carved from wind and rain and hardship. He had calloused hands, rough to the touch, but deft and gentle, and at night he painted model ships with steady, painstaking strokes while Shepard watched, the light of the lamp casting shadows on the armada of ships that hung about his study._

_There was a small house, nothing more than a simple rectangular habitat unit, standing under the shade of a tall tree, lined with carefully tended flowers boxes always in bloom. She was a botanist, he was a farmer, and they had made that habitat unit a home under the light of an alien sun._

But their memories were surrounded by fear, hate, grief, and something so dark and cold that even Shepard shunned it, caging it in the depths of his memory, distant and remote, yet always and inescapably _there_ , raw and unhealed.

Liara thought she knew where some of Shepard’s command ability came from. He’d been waging an unending battle within himself for so long it made the real fighting easy, an almost welcome distraction.

Shepard’s eyes were still on her, but Liara said nothing. _Saren has found a true enemy in this man_ , she thought. Shepard would crush him under his heel. She doubted that not at all. But the reapers? What hope did they have against _them?_

“Joker,” Shepard said suddenly, and it took Liara a moment to realize he was talking into the comm.

“ _Commander?”_

“As soon as Alenko’s up and around I want everyone in the conference room.” He looked at Liara. “We have bigger problems than we thought.”    

~

When Kaidan crawled his way back to groggy consciousness, he discovered he wasn’t alone. In the dark confines of Dr. Chakwas’ office there was a small rectangular glow of light from a datapad. The smell of eggs and sausage filled his nostrils, eliciting a growl from his empty stomach. The vice around his skull had loosened into a dull, throbbing ache. With a groan he rolled over and reached up to thumb the switch of a small lamp on Dr. Chakwas’ desk. In the sudden light he saw a pair of neon green boots propped up on the frame of his cot.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Williams drawled, not looking up from her datapad. “Did you know Dr. Chakwas likes celebrity gossip? I think she has half a dozen entertainment mags on this thing.” She swiped at the screen, head cocked to the side with one eyebrow raised. “Apparently Varesh Onek and Chan’Dren Yara vas _Naroma_ of _Fleet and Flotilla_ fame may be a real life couple.”  She looked up at Kaidan. “See, they’re assuming I have any idea what the hell _Fleet and Flotilla_ is.”  

“What are you doing here?” Kaidan replied, sitting up slowly as he waited for his brain to shake off some of the cobwebs. The aftermath of a migraine felt a little like what he imagined coming off a three day ryncol bender might be like.

She lifted a tray off Dr. Chakwas’ desk and removed the cover with a flourish. Beneath it was a steaming pile of scrambled eggs, sausage, and pancakes dripping with syrup. The smell was _heavenly._ She smirked. “The Doc said you’d be coming around soon, and I hear biotics like to binge eat.”

“You brought me breakfast?” he said, surprisingly touched by the gesture.

She raised her chin proudly. “Reconstituted it myself. I figured I’d save you the trouble of shambling through the mess to get some grub. Someone might mistake you for a plant zombie.”

“How chivalrous,” he said dryly.

“Right. Cute. Because of the knight in shining armor comment. I get it.” She pulled the tray out of reach. “You can’t have this now.”

At his look of utter deflation she laughed and offered him the tray, which he accepted with a little less dignity than he would have preferred. The migraines usually soaked up every spare ounce of energy he had, and when you combined that with the biotic display he’d put out on Feros, his body felt like it had been carved hollow from the inside out. He balanced the tray on his knees and dug in. Reconstituted food never tasted so good.

“How is Liara?” he asked between mouthfuls. “Shepard?”

“Fine. Everyone’s fine. Garrus has a stick up his ass, but it’s a figurative one, not literal.”

He gave her a withering look. She shrugged unapologetically. “Shepard’s been on the warpath since we got back.”

Kaidan frowned. “Warpath? What happened? Wait, how long was I out?” He ran a frustrated hand through his disheveled hair.

“About twenty two hours,” she replied. “You’re a modern day Sleeping Beauty. Only without the beauty part.”

He muttered under his breath. Twenty two _hours_. That was long, even for him.

“The asari did something to Shepard’s brain,” she went on, waggling her fingers. “He’s either been in his quarters or down in the hold tinkering with weapon upgrades and shooting the ever loving shit out of poor helpless targets.”   

Kaidan vaguely remembered something about the asari clone, but by that point he’d been too preoccupied with staying on his feet to pay attention to her exchange with Shepard. Apparently it hadn’t gone to the commander’s satisfaction.

“He wants us in the conference room once you’ve returned to the realm of the living,” she continued.

Kaidan set the tray aside and started to get up.     

Ashley held up a hand. “Easy now, killer. Finish your damn breakfast. I worked hard on that. Plus, you need a shower.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Gee, thank you. I’m so glad I could wake up from one headache and immediately find another.”

She laughed.

“Thanks for this,” he said, indicating the tray. “Really. I appreciate it.”

She lowered her feet to the ground with a thud and got to her feet. “My pleasure. Glad to have you back with us, LT. Now get your ass to work.”

~

 “Tungsten rounds,” Tali said, aiming her shotgun at the target, currently a projection of a geth trooper, programmed with the armor and shielding parameters Tali had collated from their encounters on Feros.  The shotgun barked as she pulled the trigger, simulated slug striking the target with an angry ripple. Data immediately scrolled across Shepard’s HUD. The smaller, specially customized ammo round had penetrated the synthetic target with 35% more efficiency.

“Impressive,” he said, as she shunted a new round into the chamber. “What if we programmed it to carry a phasic envelope?”

She tilted her head, shoulders tightening with excitement. “Yes! A phasic envelope would disrupt shields, making the rounds even more effective against armor.”

“Can the program modify other weapons?”

Tali set down the shotgun. “Any weapon you like. I have the ammo schematics on my omnitool. They just need to be replicated onto the gun’s internal computer so it can make the adjustments to the ammo block. The inferno rounds on the other hand need a special ammo block.”

“I think Wrex liked those,” Shepard said with a smile.

The krogan, who stood to the side watching Tali’s demonstration, grunted in agreement. “Show me a scenario in which fire isn’t helpful and you’re an idiot,” he said.

“The thermite paste interferes with targeting accuracy,” she warned.

“Accuracy doesn’t matter much when you’re using a shotgun.”

“Not when you’re the one holding it, I’ll give you that,” Shepard agreed.

Tali patted her own gun affectionately in response. Shepard was pretty sure the krogan’s apparent regard for Tali – which was more or less just an absence of dislike – stemmed mostly from the fact that it was her preferred weapon.

“Sure you don’t want to upgrade that gun?” Shepard asked her. “I have a Tornado I think you’d like.”

Her posture stiffened. “No thanks,” she said, but did not elaborate. Shepard picked up his own shotgun and downloaded the tungsten specs. Once they were complete he ran systems checks on the gun’s VI and made adjustments to compensate for the weight variance. Once he was done he raised the weapon and fired.

“Recoil needs adjusting,” he commented.

“What’s the matter, Shepard?” Wrex asked. “Can’t handle a little kickback?”

Shepard smiled and aimed at the target. The holo geth’s head promptly disintegrated. Wrex nodded his approval.  

“What else have you got?”  Shepard asked.  

“Combat optics,” she replied. “Garrus helped me out with this one.”

Shepard paused at the mention of the turian, who was notably absent, and had been since returning to the ship. He had not addressed what had happened on Feros. The easy excuse was that there were more important things to think about, which was true. But it was also true that the last thing Shepard wanted to do was dwell on his outburst over Hollis’ death. “Go on,” he said.

She picked up a sniper rifle, Garrus’, Shepard observed with some surprise. He doubted there were many people he allowed to handle it. “It’s a VI package that improves combat radar effectiveness and uses the data to improve accuracy.”

Shepard glanced at Wrex. “So you think it could negate some of the effects of the incendiary rounds?”

She tilted her head in a gesture that Shepard now realized was her equivalent of a smile, and held up the sniper. “Guess we’ll have to test it and see.”

“Gladly,” Shepard said.

“Oh! Lieutenant!” Tali exclaimed suddenly, looking over Shepard’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

Shepard turned to see Alenko standing behind them, leaning against the Mako. The biotic looked surprisingly relaxed and…normal. He’d been around for one or two of Kaidan’s really bad migraine episodes on the _Tannenberg_ , and in the immediate aftermath he usually looked like death warmed over.

“Ready for the next one,” Alenko replied, arms folded easily across his chest, displaying all of the aplomb that Shepard had been looking for all morning. Sometimes Shepard wanted to take his composure and rip it right out of his body.

Shepard pulled out his sidearm, examined the scouring on the rail and handed it to Tali. “See about fixing that up with some of those Tungstens,” he told her. He looked back at Alenko, whose expression was the same one he’d had a few nights ago in the mess before the card game – the one that intuited Shepard’s state of mind with unsettling accuracy. He twitched a little.  A bang echoed in his ears as Wrex fired at the simulated target.

“Tali has an idea how to rig your hardsuit with a kinetic exoskeleton that will increase your amp efficiency while boosting your shields,” he said, cutting Alenko off before he could speak.  

The lieutenant straightened up a little, intrigued but wary. He was worse than Shepard when it came to anyone modifying his amour. Shepard spent hours tweaking his suit mechanics, and any changes resulted in painstaking recalibrations that he trusted to no one but himself.

“She’ll send you the specs,” Shepard said, with Tali nodding behind him. “You can look them over.”

“My armor is currently in a foul smelling pile in Dr. Chakwas’ office,” Alenko said with a grimace. “Think it needs a little spit and polish before I worry about upgrades.”

Shepard picked up a Thunder rifle off the weapons’ bench and held it up, examining the targeting feedback in his HUD. “Sure about that?” he asked.

Alenko frowned. “Uh…”

Shepard smirked, and gestured with the tip of the barrel towards the lockers on the wall. Alenko approached his with caution usually reserved for dealing with explosives and gingerly pulled it open to find his armor neatly stowed inside. Shepard heard him exhale. “Ashley,” he said.

“Think she was worried about you. I tried to tell her that being covered in thorian slime was a pretty normal look for you, but I don’t think she believed me.”

“I was fine,” he muttered darkly. “It’s just a damn headache. She didn’t have to do that.”

“I wouldn’t have bothered,” Wrex spoke up.

Shepard looked over his shoulder at the krogan. “You and Tali. Round everyone up. Conference room in twenty minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” Tali quipped.   

Alenko slammed the locker door shut. Shepard waited until Tali and Wrex were out of earshot to speak.

“Relax, Kaidan. I don’t think it was a pity favor. That’s not exactly Ashley Williams’ MO.”

“It interfered with my job. If I hadn’t been so focused on the vice grip attached to my skull I could have stopped them from overpowering us. I’d have been there _with_ Liara when she confronted that colonist.” He slammed a fist against the locker.

“Hannah Murakami,” Shepard supplied.

Alenko glanced at him, not entirely surprised.  “Pretty good without a report.  I’m a little behind on my paperwork.”

“Didn’t need it. I knew my body count,” he replied tersely. He neglected to mention the hours he’d spent cataloguing all seven bodies once it was over. It was very much something he wanted to forget. “What happened?”

Alenko turned and leaned against the locker, sighing. “We knew they were hiding something, and Liara figured out where. I was with Fai Dan when she went to check it out. Wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t so damned helpless.”

“Aim was still good.”

Alenko flinched. “When I got there Murakami had a gun on her. Finger on the trigger. Thank God for targeting software.”

Shepard smiled briefly, but turned his attention back to the gun in his hands. “I think the user has a little something to do with it.”

“Shouldn’t have happened,” Alenko insisted. “You don’t kill the people you’re supposed to protect.”

“Sometimes you don’t have a choice.” He set the gun down, scowling.

“Yeah. Don’t have to like it though.” Alenko chuckled a little. “You know, I came down here to see how _you_ were doing.”

Shepard headed towards the elevator, tossing a half smile back over his shoulder.

“I know.”       

~

“We think Saren is using technology he found on his ship to indoctrinate his followers.”

Shepard looked around at the faces of his crew, all seated around the conference room circle. Pressly, Alenko, Tali, Wrex, Liara, Williams and Garrus all stared at the frozen image of Saren’s dreadnaught hovering over Eden Prime on the viewer. All but Ashley Williams examined it with wary curiosity.

“Indoctrinate,” Pressly said, scratching at his beard. “So he’s possessing people’s minds now?”

“Something like that,” Shepard said. “We don’t know how it works. But whatever it is, the ship seems to be the key.”

“Where did it come from?” Tali asked. “Did Shiala know anything about it?”

“No,” Shepard replied. “She was never on board.” He glanced at Liara. “But Benezia was. We need to find her.”

The asari sat alarmingly still, eyes trained on the dreadnaught. Only hours before he would have known what was thinking. It was a feeling he hadn’t quite shaken off yet.

“Some kind of reaper technology,” Garrus declared. “Maybe a relic from the prothean extermination fifty thousand years ago.”

Pressly scowled. “If that’s so he has access to resources I don’t want to think about. That ship has our number in every category. Weapons, drive core, shielding…that thing wipes its ass with the laws of quantum mechanics.”

Shepard raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe so,” Tali concurred. “But I doubt he understands any of those things any more than we do. Though that can either work to our advantage or make him that much more dangerous.”

“I think it’s the latter,” Shepard spoke up. All eyes turned away from the dreadnaught to him, except for Liara’s. He kneaded his fingers against the armrest of his seat.

“Saren may have shiny gadgets, but he’s still just a turian,” Wrex rumbled. “As far as I’m concerned, the plan is still the same. Find him and kill him.”

“And what about the reapers?” Williams asked. “Do you think their threat stops with that?”

The krogan shifted in his seat to look directly at her faceplate. “If the key to that is preventing him from using the conduit, yes.”

“I don’t think we can presume it’s that simple.”

“It’s useless to speculate about the reapers until we know more,” Shepard said. “Wrex is right. Saren is the enemy we can stop. We do that first. Worry about the rest later.”

He felt Liara’s eyes on him, gaze seeing right through him. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. In the back of his mind he could almost feel her and her onrush of warmth. _We will close it together,_ she had whispered. And they had. She had pressed her hands against the splinters he struggled to hold in place and somehow made them solid. The vision was still very much alive and present in his thoughts, but the asari had helped him mute the sound a little. After she had left his quarters he had slept sounder than he had since Eden Prime.

He cleared his throat, deliberately looking away from her. “We’re looking for leads. Liara is trying to locate Matriarch Benezia. So far she’s the only solid link we have, unless the geth make their presence known elsewhere.”

“And in the meantime?” Alenko asked.

“We do our jobs,” Shepard replied.

“Adams advised me that when we leave Feros we need to make a charge dump,” Pressly said. With the geth still around he suggested we head for Hawking Eta. The Century system has a planet with a suitable magnetosphere.”

“Set a course then,” Shepard told him, getting to his feet. “I’d love nothing more than to get the hell out of…wherever the hell this is.”

“Theseus,” Pressly replied, amused.

Shepard pointed at the door. “I don’t care. Put it in the taillights.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

The others began to file out of the conference room, speaking to one another in low voices. Shepard shut off the view screen. “Garrus,” he called out to the turian’s retreating back. Garrus froze in midstride, hesitated, then turned. Shepard waited until the room was clear.

“Sir?” Garrus said stiffly.

Instead of responding, Shepard reached for a case he’d stuffed under his chair, released the locking seal with a snick and withdrew his sniper rifle. When he glanced up he saw that the turian’s eyes were wide, one mandible quivering. In spite of himself Shepard laughed. “Relax, Garrus. I’m not going to shoot you. I wanted to show you something.” He handed over the rifle, which Garrus took with the caution of someone accepting a live grenade.

Shepard opened his mouth to point out the purpose of his show and tell, but Garrus beat him to it.

“High explosive rounds?” His subharmonics rang with skepticism.

“Tali helped me rig it,” Shepard affirmed, trying to hide his disappointment at the turian’s doubtful reaction. “Better armor piercing capability, higher penetrative force. What, you don’t like it?”

“How many shots before you max the heat sinks? One, maybe two?”

Shepard grinned. “You mean you need more than one shot?”

Garrus cleared his throat, eyes shifting abruptly to a very fascinating control panel to Shepard’s left. Shepard sighed a little, mentally reminding himself to choose his words a little better. “About what happened on Feros.”

“Commander, I—”

“I’m sorry.”

The turian remained still. A mandible quivered.

Shepard leaned back against the view screen control panel and tapped the heel of his boot against the floor. “You made the right call, under the circumstances. I shouldn’t have responded the way I did.”

“I…thank you, sir.” The turian straightened, hesitated. “Can I ask you something?”

Shepard waved a hand. “Go ahead.”

“Shiala. Not only did you let her live, you let her stay with the colony. I…wasn’t expecting that.”

“She wanted to make amends,” Shepard said with a shrug. “I believed her. The colony is going to need help if it’s going to survive.”

“And you think they’ll accept her help?”

“That’s up to them.” 

“And what about justice? She used those people.”

Shepard folded his arms across his chest, examining the turian’s expression for clues to what was going through his mind. This was about more than just what had happened on Feros. Shepard had not known enough turians to be able to read him well, but Garrus’ brow plates seemed tighter than usual, and there was a pinched, uncomfortable look in his eye that Shepard hadn’t seen before.   

“The _thorian_ used those people,” Shepard corrected. “And Saren used her. That doesn’t make her evil.”

“She doesn’t have to be evil to be a murderer, Shepard. You saw inside her mind. I seriously doubt Saren waltzed in and out of Zhu’s Hope without a body count, especially if the thorian was using the colonists to defend itself in the first place. Someone has to answer for those crimes!” This time both mandibles flared, then pulled tight to his skull.

Shepard worked his jaw a little, sifting through the pieces of Shiala still lingering in his brain. “You’re right,” he said at last. “Shiala’s hands aren’t exactly clean. But I _did_ see into her mind, and I didn’t find a heartless murderer inside. She’s going to live with what happened on Zhu’s Hope for the rest of her life, and she knows it.”

“So we spare her life just because she’s sorry? Are we going to do the same for Saren?”

“Saren is different,” Shepard said, voice hardening a little.

“Yes,” Garrus conceded. “And how do we know that with this indoctrination trick he apparently has we haven’t just left a sleeper agent behind on Feros?”

Shepard gave Garrus a long look, inhaling deeply before responding. The turian hit closer to the truth than Shepard would like, and the decision had weighed heavily on him both before and after he made it. “We don’t. Not for certain. But I was…satisfied she was genuine. If Saren was rattling around in her mind, I’m confident the thorian drove him out.”

“So that’s a risk we’re willing to take.”

“I can see why you piss off your superiors, Garrus,” Shepard said but it was with a smile this time.

The turian coughed, shifting his weight a little, head angling to the side. “Sorry, sir. I’ve always been a little bit of a thorn in people’s heel.”

“I don’t mind,” Shepard said, meaning it. He could think of a few CO’s, a few of them his, who did, but Shepard could clearly remember the days when he’d been the one in Garrus’ shoes, and how sometimes getting answers to those questions could shape the future in ways you didn’t expect.

“It was a gut decision,” Shepard told him. “I think you know a little bit about that. If I kill her or take her into custody, it may seem like justice. Maybe it _is_ justice. But what if Zhu’s Hope fails when leaving her there could have saved it? Did justice still prevail? Was it worth the price?”

Garrus clacked his talons against his armor. “I don’t know,” he said, subharmonics flanging with uncertainty even Shepard could hear.     

“Not everything is black and white. There’s a lot of grey out there. This won’t be the last time you or I have to make a call that falls between the lines. Do it for the right reasons, and we’ll never have a problem.”

Garrus tilted his head. “And how will I know it was the right decision?”

A smile crossed Shepard’s face. “That, my friend, is why they call it grey.”

 


	25. Matres

Joker sighed loud enough to make sure Pressly heard it over the comm. “Look, old man, I don’t care what your star charts say. Breaking burn needs to start at these coordinates. This isn’t some run of the mill frigate we’re talking about. I know my engines.”

“ _Yeah, well I know my natural phenomenon, and there’s a gaseous nebula that’s going to affect our drift.”_

Pressly was such a damn _grouch._ He gave the comm panel the finger, eliciting a chuckle from Ashley Williams, who was hanging around the cockpit for some reason Joker hadn’t yet figured out yet, feet propped up on the console, no less. Those gaudy neon green boots were bright enough to hurt his eyes.

He gestured to her feet. “Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?”

“ _I’d like to teach you,”_ came the grumbled reply.

Joker rolled his eyes. “Relax, baldy, I wasn’t _talking_ to you, I was talking to the bigfoot marine sitting in here who has the subtlety and grace of an elephant.” 

Williams made a face, then pointedly crossed and recrossed her feet.

“I hate my job,” Joker lamented. “What the hell do you want, anyway?”

“What, the pleasure of my company isn’t enough for you?”  

“I’m sorry. I haven’t experienced the pleasure part of your company yet. Be sure to notify me when that happens.”

She examined her fingernails. “You need to get laid, Joker.”

He grimaced, trying to avoid letting on that the comment struck a little closer to home than he liked. God forbid she, or anyone else for that matter, get a peek at his extranet bookmarks. “Seriously. Tell me what you want so I can tell you no and you can leave.”

“Bandwidth,” she replied, “And I tend not to leave until I get my way, so I’m going to assume that if you don’t give it to me you secretly adore my company and want more of it.”

Joker weighed the pros and cons of Williams riding shotgun, observing his every move, and decided that after about five minutes he would be scrambling for the nearest airlock. “What the hell do you need bandwidth for, or do I want to know?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I want to talk to my sisters.”

“Sisters? Christ, there are more of you? Hasn’t the galaxy suffered enough?”

Ashley grinned. “What’s the matter, Joker? Intimidated by smart, independent, badass women who can kick your ass?”

He snorted. “Kicking my ass isn’t much of a feat. And just throw a message in the with the next data packet. Queue isn’t that long. They’ll get it in a few days. ”

She shook her head, a slightly sheepish look coming over her face. “I want…real time. I haven’t talked to them face to face since I got posted on Eden Prime.”

Joker thought briefly of his own sister. How long had it been since they’d last talked face to face? A year? Two? She was about to turn thirteen, for chrissakes. It wouldn’t be long before he wouldn’t even recognize her. He sighed.

Williams peered out the shutters, watching the stars drift. After a moment he heard her murmur something under her breath. “We pray for one last landing, on the globe that gave us birth; let us rest our eyes on the fleecy skies, and the cool, green hills of Earth.”

 “And what was that?” he asked, once she had fallen silent again.

“Heinlein. I miss my family,” she explained when she caught sight of his confused look. “My dad would always recite that poem when he left for a tour. Always makes me think of coming home.”

Joker’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t sure how to reconcile the jarhead marine sitting next to him with someone fond of iambic pentameter. She grinned, as though guessing his thoughts.

“What, because I can shoot someone between the eyes at two hundred meters I can’t like poetry? Would it blow your mind to know I have a datapad crammed full of Tennyson?”

“Yes.”

She laughed and dropped her feet to the floor. “Good. So will you do it? I just need a little help getting up the food chain for priority clearance.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You know it’s not technically legal for me to just bump someone because I have a godly amount of power that I’m not supposed to abuse.”

“Please?”

“And what do I get out of the deal?”

With a deep inhale she leaned back once again and propped her feet back on the console. Joker felt something in his brain twitch. “Well, what do you want?”

“An all-expenses paid night out on the Citadel,” he replied with a grand wave of his arm. “Presidium. Not some shitty dive in the wards.”

“Ok. And what do you want that’s within the realm of possibility?”

He tilted his head and tapped his cheek with a finger. “A night with the Consort,” he answered finally.

“You’re shooting higher there, buddy. Not lower.”

“Fine,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. He swiveled his chair as far as it would go so he didn’t have to crane his neck so much. “Next time we dock at the Citadel. Or Arcturus. Or anyplace with decent restaurants. I want an honest to God panang curry. None of the reconstituted shit or fake substitutes. Real coconut cream. Real spices. Beef that actually tastes like it came from a cow, not some salarian monstrosity.”

She leveled him with a skeptical look. “You want Thai food.”

“Yes,” he said, raising his chin. “My mom was born in Bangkok, and she’s a hell of a cook. Haven’t had a decent curry since I left for flight school.”

“I’m sorry,” she said with a laugh, “but I would never guess you were half Thai.”

“Well, I don’t know why it matters,” he said with irritation, “but I didn’t say she _was_ Thai. I said she was _born_ in Thailand. My grandparents lived there for years. Mamaw was a soil reclamation specialist.”

“Ah. Right. Ok, so. Thai food. And you want it here on the ship? Why not go out, wine and dine?”

He shot her a glare, unsure whether there was mocking in there somewhere or not. “No thanks. Paper mache legs mean the hazards of navigating thirteen million people slightly outweigh the benefits of good food.” He flicked at his crutches with a finger.

“You can use an assistance mech,” she pointed out.

“You want one? Go right ahead. I’ll save myself the humiliation, thanks.” He crossed his arms sullenly across his chest and turned back to his navigation screens. The chief remained uncharacteristically silent.

“Sorry,” she said finally. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Right, whatever,” he muttered.   

She opened her mouth to say something more, but they were interrupted by the approach of footsteps, lighter than standard Alliance combat boots. Joker craned his head behind him and caught sight of blue skin.

At first their resident asari’s abundance of clothing and lack of a stripper pole had been a disappointment, but it turned out the nerdy scientist look had about the same effect as a school girl uniform. A guy could dream _._ And whatever a guy could dream could be found somewhere on the extranet.

“Doctor,” Joker said, making a point to grin at Williams. “What a pleasure. What can I do for you?”

Ashley rolled her eyes and pointedly rubbed the treads of her boots on the console.

Liara glanced about the cockpit. Worry lines etched her near perfect skin, and her hands kneaded one another absently. “I was…looking for Shepard,” she said.

“He’s in the conference room,” the gunnery chief said with a disgruntled wave, either oblivious to or choosing to ignore her distress. “A bunch of them are talking about geth, I think. Dunno. Wasn’t invited.” She picked at some dirt under her nails. Joker hid a smirk. So it appeared there was more than one reason she’d decided to hang around the cockpit. _We can be misfits together_ , he thought.

“Oh. I see.” Liara made as if to turn, hesitated, and looked back at Joker. “How far are we from the Horsehead Nebula?” she asked.

Joker shrugged, curiosity roused. “Not far. The mass relay here can jump straight to Horsehead if need be. Any particular destination?”

“Noveria.” She said the word like she was suggesting hell as their next destination.

“Noveria…” Joker accessed his link to the galaxy map in the CIC and began poking around. “That’s in the Pax system. Yeah. No problem. Why, what’s on Noveria?”

Her breath hitched, and Joker could have sworn she was trying not to cry. “Thank you,” she managed. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” She whipped her shoulders around and headed back down the hallway.

He glanced over at Williams. “That poor girl needs a hug.”

Williams made a face.

“What’s your problem?”

“Nothing.”

“Jealous?”

_“Nothing._ So it’s Thai food you want?”

Joker nodded. “Right here. In the mess. Fancy as shit. I’m talking tablecloths. Maybe even little paper doilies. You get to be my waiter.”

She reached out and waggled the ballcap on his head. “Worth it,” she said as he batted her hand away and straightened the brim.  

He scowled at her. “Now can I have a little peace so I can argue with Pressly some more?”

“Yes.” She got to her feet. When she was halfway down the corridor he called after her.

“Cool, green hills of earth, huh?”

“Take us back to the homes of men,” she replied over her shoulder.

He sighed. “I’m guessing we’re setting course for Pax first, unfortunately.”

It wasn’t until later that evening, when he hit up his locker before a shower and change of clothes, that he discovered a datapad he didn’t recognize crammed into his things. When he powered it on, the words _Future History, by Robert Heinlein_ , scrolled across its surface.

“That woman is not turning me into a poetry nerd,” he muttered aloud, but he tucked it into the folds of the clean uniform stuffed under his arm. Then his concentration transitioned to managing the awkward bundle and the crutches without shattering an ankle on the way to the head.

~

Tali called a new holo up on the conference room’s vidscreen of one of the red-armored geth units they’d encountered on Feros. Shepard, Alenko and Garrus examined it carefully.

“Okay, so what do we know about these guys?” Alenko asked.

“You mean other than the fact they carry rocket launchers?” Shepard remarked, rubbing a spot on his shoulder with a grimace. “I think that’s pretty all encompassing.”

Tali smiled to herself and pulled up the schematics she and Garrus had worked on. “They have greater shielding than the standard trooper units,” she explained, “but still lower than some of the more elite geth.” She glanced at Shepard. “At close range they use pulse rifles like the trooper. In other words, it’s much better to fight one of these _bosh’tets_ at close range.”

“Do I want to know what a _bosh’tet_ is?” Garrus asked, head tilted slightly.

“No,” Tali replied. In fact, her father would kill her for using the word as often as she seemed to these days. But she was dealing with _geth_. It just seemed appropriate.

“Any luck getting one of those rifles from the field so we can study it?” Shepard asked.

Garrus shook his head. “They have some kind if self-destruct mechanism. Haven’t managed to salvage one that’s intact.”

“Tali?”

“I’m working on a solution,” she assured him. “They look and behave similarly to what they used against us three hundred years ago, with obvious improvements. But in the meantime, we have this.” She displayed the weapons’ data that Garrus had painstakingly compiled over the past several days. “Velocity, trajectory, impact analysis…we may not have the weapons themselves, but we know everything we possibly can otherwise about what they do, even if we don’t know how they work.”

Shepard folded his arms across his chest, corner of his mouth quirking up in a slight smile that made her shiver with pride. “Nice. So what else can you tell me?”

Garrus cleared his throat. “They use two types of rockets. Distortion rockets cause a lot of splash damage. All around messy, but not very efficient at greater than a hundred meters. At longer range they have scram rockets. Less splash damage, but much faster and more accurate. They’ll wreck the Mako’s shields in a hurry, and seem to be best friends with armatures.”

“We can use that data to design better detection and evasion protocols,” Alenko mused, a crease forming in his brow.

“I need a designation to enter them into the official database we send to the Council,” Tali said. “My people called them rocket troopers.”

“I think rocket trooper is a pretty apt description,” Shepard said. “What’s next?”

“The big one,” Tali replied, pulling up an image of the three meter monster with yellow striping over its dark gray cowling. “Quarian records classify it as a destroyer.”

Shepard’s eye twitched. “They charge,” he said.

Tali tilted her head. “I don’t remember seeing that behavior on Feros.”

“That’s because I made sure they didn’t get close enough to think it was a good idea,” Shepard replied. “Trust me. They charge.” He and Alenko exchanged glances. Tali reminded herself to review the Eden Prime file again.

“Heavy shielding with good regenerative capabilities,” she went on. “I’m working on designing an overload charge that specifically targets their more sophisticated shield emitters. Should be ready to test it soon.”

“Good,” Shepard replied. “What else?”

“It’s a command level unit.” She pointed at the thick antennae mounted on its back. “See that? We don’t see it on any of the smaller units. Best I can tell is that they use it to boost their neural net connectivity. If they’re on the field, they’re priority targets.”

“Don’t forget about the shotgun,” Garrus reminded her.

“You analyzed that one,” she said. “Go for it.”

Shepard and Alenko turned their attention to the turian, whose mandibles flared briefly before he cleared his throat.

“The shotgun they carry is similar to the pulse rifle. But it’s capable of firing a slug that fragments in a unique way I haven’t seen before.” Garrus shook his head. “It’s like packing the power of a high impact grenade into a bullet. The fragments have some kind of thermite coating like the ones we were testing the other day, only more powerful. I’ve nicknamed it the carnage shot.”

Shepard nodded thoughtfully. “Get with Wrex. And Williams. They know shotguns inside and out. Find out a way to replicate it. If we could get a sample of the geth’s armor we might even be able to specially formulate something to chew through it.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Garrus said, an excited thrum running through his subharmonics. Tali doubted that kind of assignment was one he’d gotten much in C-Sec.   

“What about the little hopper units?” Alenko asked. “We haven’t seen many of them, but they have some nasty ECM attacks.”

“They’re capable of overloading shields, remotely sabotaging heat sinks, and even temporarily shuting down biotic amps,” Tali confirmed, thumbing through the screens until she found one of the spider-like unit.

Now it was Alenko’s turn to grimace. Absently he reached his hand behind his neck to his amp port. “So that’s what happened,” he muttered.

“They’re fast, and seem to be specifically engineered for stealth and disruption,” Garrus added.

Alenko walked closer to the viewer. “They’re made of different material. It’s like some kind of synthetic muscle tissue. Any idea what it is?”

Tali rubbed her elbow. “We don’t have a frame of reference for this type of unit other than what we’ve seen on Therum and Feros,” she said. She hesitated, shifted her feet. “Nothing like this particular unit existed during the Geth War.”

“So it’s new.” Alenko folded his arms across his chest, still gazing at the screen. “Interesting. You think they’ve evolved?”

“It’s…a logical conclusion.” One that made her very, very uncomfortable. This was information the fleet didn’t have. It confirmed some of their worst fears, or in the case of Admiral Xen, curiosities. This was the kind of thing her people had been aching to get their hands on for centuries.

There was no question it was the answer to her Pilgrimage. The Admiralty Board would salivate over data that might hint towards the geth’s capabilities, behavioral changes, _evolution!_ It might be the first step to taking back Rannoch. The homeworld no one had seen in three hundred years.

The thought of that kind of responsibility, consequences, on her shoulders, made her heart pound.  

But one look at Shepard studying the image, intense scrutiny gathered on his brow, speared her with guilt. Shepard _needed_ her. No one in the fleet had ever _needed_ her for anything. To take the data and leave was selfish. Childish. The goals of the pilgrimage were to prove herself a worthy member of quarian society. The gift wasn’t as important as her contributions, and right now, this was where she could make a difference.       

_So put away your ego and shut up_ , she scolded herself.

Shepard’s scowl deepened the longer he stared at the holo. “It looks to me like something in need of an exorcism. I’ve seen it climb, jump, and rotate its head around like it's about to start spewing pea soup.”

Tali shot a quick glance at Garrus, who seemed equally confused by the reference. “The good news is, they’re lightly armored and have little shielding. If you can get a target lock they’re pretty easy to take out. _If_ you can get a target lock.”

“Biotics worked well against them on Feros,” Alenko said. “Liara was able to snag them in a singularity.”

“What should I call them in the database?” Tali asked.

“Hopper sounds good to me,” Shepard said. “They aren’t paying us for creativity.” He inhaled through his nose. “Keep working. By the time we track down Matriarch Benezia I want to be an expert on the geth.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shepard put a hand to his chin, still staring darkly at the screen. “Dismissed.”

The three of them headed for the exit. Shepard made no move to join them.  For a moment Tali considered lingering, asking him about the data. It wouldn’t hurt to _ask_. To know that once this was over, it could be hers to bring back to her people. She just didn’t know what she would do if he said no.

She kneaded her hands, drew in a breath, but before she could speak Alenko called to her from the door.

“Tali, do you have a few minutes to tell me more about that amp ECM?”

With one backwards look at Shepard, she headed towards Alenko and nodded. “Um, sure. Want to head down to the cargo bay? Garrus and I need to do some more analysis on their attack patterns.”

Alenko glanced at the turian, who dipped his head in a nod. The noise of the CIC washed over them as they stepped through the door, Pressly calling out systems checks from the podium in front of the galaxy map, Serviceman Crosby gesturing animatedly to a blonde corporal. Tali spotted Caroline Grenado delivering an engine report and waved; the short-haired, smiling engineer returned it with enthusiasm.

Behind Grenado, she spotted Liara T’Soni at the edge of the CIC hallway, hands clasped awkwardly in front of her, eyes locked on the stanchion behind the sprawling galaxy map separating the CIC from the conference room.

A moment later Shepard emerged, and Tali _saw_ the breath catch in the asari’s throat, her face paling to the point she looked ill. The commander stopped to converse with Pressly.

“Tali?” Alenko asked, calling to her from the doorway to the stairwell. “Coming?”

Her gaze remained trained on Liara.  She thought of her first day on the _Normandy_ , when she’d felt so lonely and uncertain, and how Garrus had swept in and made her day without even realizing it. Time to return the favor. “Meet you down there in a few minutes.”

Alenko gave her an odd look. “Sure. Take your time.”

“Thanks,” Tali murmured, heading towards Liara with a quick glance back at Shepard, who laughed at some comment Pressly had just made with a smile that was almost genuine.

“Liara?”

The asari startled at the sound of her voice, but upon recovering appeared almost relieved for the distraction. “Tali. Is there…do you need me for something?”

“No,” Tali replied. “But you look like you could use a friend.”

A hesitant smile flicked across her face. “I appreciate that, but…”

“Come on,” she cajoled. “A few minutes won’t hurt. Shepard will still be here when you’re ready.”

The asari’s blue eyes lit up with shock. “How did you—”

Tali tapped at her faceplate. “You might not see my face, but I can see yours. And whatever’s bothering you, if you want to talk about it, I’ll be happy to listen.”

~

Liara followed Tali down to the cargo bay, wavering when she heard the deep rumblings of the krogan. His thunderous chuckle echoed throughout the cavern-like space, followed by the flange of Garrus’ subharmonics. She saw them near the lockers, along with Alenko, and cringed a little. She didn’t exactly want to share her burdens with a group.

She knew where her mother was.

It weighed far more heavily on her chest than she had expected. Objectively, nothing about this information changed anything. But to Liara, it changed _everything._

A contact of Benezia’s who owed her a favor had provided the lead she’d needed. She didn’t like what it turned out to be. Several years ago her mother and Saren had entered into a joint investment in Binary Helix, a corporation that specialized in genetic engineering and biotechnology. She’d traced the funds to a research lab on Noveria. With a little luck and some outside help she’d obtained security camera footage that confirmed her suspicions – her mother was there, though what she was _doing_ remained unknown.

She looked so _different_.

It had been nearly forty years since they had seen each other, but time did not account for the change. Even through the grainy footage Liara could see that her wise, elegant features had become hard as stone, the warmth in her eyes siphoned out and replaced with something alien and cold. The Benezia that Liara knew always wore something yellow – be it in her gown, around her neck, attached to her headdress. But there was no scrap of it in the footage Liara saw. This was a stranger wearing her mother’s face.  

_But she is still my mother, and now I have to go to Shepard and give him what he needs to hunt her down like an enemy._

A cold shudder rippled down her spine.

Tali patted her arm reassuringly and pointed towards the Mako.

“Tali!” Alenko called upon spotting them. “About that dampening field—”

“Hold that thought, lieutenant,” Tali replied, swinging effortlessly up onto the tank. “Liara and I have some, er, last minute repair work to do on the Mako.”

“Need a hand?” Garrus asked hopefully.

The young quarian sighed. “That was code for Liara and I want girl time, Garrus.”

Wrex made an interested sound in his throat.

“Not _that_ kind of girl time,” Tali snapped, and in spite of herself Liara found herself stifling a giggle. The hatch opened with a mild creak. Tali dropped down inside, already nestling into one of the seats as Liara slid in beside her. When the hatch closed behind them the echoes of the cargo bay vanished, leaving them alone with a thick, welcome silence.

“What do you think?” she asked.

Liara looked around. “I…never would have thought of coming here.”

“Quarians by nature don’t like to be alone,” Tali said, “but sometimes a little solitude is nice. Growing up in the Migrant Fleet you have to be creative to find it.” She ran her fingers across the dash and activated the haptic display. Moments later thin strips of fluorescent track lighting flickered to life, creating an eerie, dark blue glow that was strangely comforting. With the air circulators off the air inside the tank was musty, tinged with the faint scent of oil and lubricant. Liara reached up and fingered the 'Oh Shit' handle.

“Shepard is a terrible driver,” Tali announced.

Liara laughed, a spontaneous, unexpected sound that immediately lifted some of the weight off her shoulders. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks so,” she said.

Tali ran her hands over the armrests of her seat, looking around the main cab. Liara wondered if she had sensors in her gauntlets capable of tactile feedback, or if the actual texture of the armrest remained completely unknown to her. The thought that quarians went through their life essentially deprived of physical touch struck her as profoundly sad.

The weak lighting reflected off her faceplate, making the purple tint even more opaque. “Quarians don’t have much in the way of infantry vehicles,” she said. “The Heavy Fleet is one of the largest military arms in the galaxy, but our actual number of ground troops is fairly low.” She tugged at her suit. “We aren’t exactly designed for prolonged ground warfare.”

“You seem to do just fine,” Liara said, leaning into the headrest. The Mako was surprisingly comfortable when it wasn’t careening madly around corners or scaling vertical cliffs.

“Oh, I’m not a soldier,” Tali said quickly. “I just have a knack for knowing how to make things explode.” She snickered a little. “Growing up I was always experimenting with ECM and hacking into systems I wasn’t supposed to be in, just to see if I could do it. My mother called me a techno deviant.”

Liara smiled a little.  “Tell me about your mother.”

The quarian stilled for a moment, then squirmed a little in her seat. “She was wonderful. Patient, which was a good thing because my father definitely wasn’t. It wasn’t easy being married to an admiral. I always admired her strength.”

Liara bit her lip, painfully aware she used the past tense. “Did…something happen to her?”

A soft exhale escaped her vocal emitter. “She passed away a few years ago.”

Liara turned her head. “Tali, I’m so sorry. How?”

“Airborne virus.” Her shoulders shifted in a tiny shrug. “It’s the way things are in the Flotilla, unfortunately. The suits protect us, but infection is still the leading cause of death among my people. No matter how careful we are, sometimes it just isn’t enough.”

“And yet here you are, on a ship full of aliens, on one of the most dangerous mission imaginable. That’s… _courageous_.” Liara looked down at her hands. 

“I don’t know how courageous it really is,” she said. “I wonder sometimes, if my father wasn’t who he is, would I be here?  I mean, I like to think so. But if I’m really honest with myself I think maybe I only came this far because I didn’t want to let him down. I want him to be proud of me. Sometimes I wish that wasn’t so hard.”

Liara nodded absently, knowing all too well.

“The funny thing is,” she continued, “that once I got here and started working with all of you, it became less about being here because of him, and more about being here because it was the right thing to do. Maybe there’s someone else out here who would do my job better than I’m doing it, or be better suited to Shepard’s crew. But they’re not here. I am. And how I got here doesn’t really matter.” She made a sweeping gesture with her arm. “What we’re doing could shape the fate of the whole galaxy. So as long as I’m here, I’m going to do everything in my power to help. Like it or not, we’re the ones who got chosen to stop Saren. So we _have_ to get it done.” She smacked a balled fist into her hand. “Whatever it takes.”

Liara was silent. After a moment she became aware the quarian was watching her.

“I know where Benezia is,” Liara confessed. She opened her mouth to say more, but stopped. Her tongue felt like lead.

“I’m sorry,” Tali said.

Liara turned her head, surprised to find that the quarian _did_ sound sorry. “I should have marched straight to Shepard and told him, but I didn’t.”

“And you’re…worried he might hold that against you?”

For a moment she didn’t answer, because she wasn’t sure how. “I feel like the entire crew is waiting for me to show my true colors. To side with her and Saren, lead them into a trap.” She exhaled, hands shaking. “I suppose it’s foolish to just wish it would all go away.”

Tali reached for the control panel. “Here. I want to show you something.” Her hand hesitated above the haptic keys, and she glanced quickly at Liara. “Um. This…is something that should probably stay between us. I’ve discovered that humans have a slightly different perception of communal living than quarians do.”

Liara’s brow creased in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“It’s too quiet on this ship,” she explained. “The engines are too quiet. The _people_ are too quiet. I asked Grenado if it just had something to do with this ship or the mission, but she thought I was crazy. She said people on this ship are more talkative than what she’s used to. I can’t even believe that.” Her head tilted to the side. “I suppose I’m just used to people constantly butting in where they don’t belong. We do it so much in the Fleet it doesn’t seem unusual. There’s no such thing as private communications, unless you’re talking about security matters.”  She laughed. “I suppose we just assumed that since our secrets would be found out anyway, there wasn’t much point in trying to keep them.”

“So…what did you do?” Liara asked, curiosity entering her voice.

Tali tapped at the Mako’s control panel. A trumpet of noise erupted over the internal comm system, loud enough to send Tali scrambling for the volume. After she recovered from the initial blast of sound, Liara’s eyes widened.

Voices. Dozens, maybe even hundreds of voices, all speaking at once to create an overlap of white noise. It was nearly impossible to make out any actual words, or even identify the speakers, but if she listened long enough the effect was strangely soothing.

“What is this?” she breathed.

“Crew conversations,” Tali confessed. “The Mako has a separate comm system from the _Normandy,_ but they’re linked. I was able to use it as a backdoor to access ship to ship communications.”

“Whose?” Liara asked, stabbed with sudden apprehension.

Tali’s shoulders slumped a little. “Umm…everyone’s. Crew pages, logs, message recordings…”

Liara gasped. The conversations she’d sent back and forth to Thessia raced through her brain. Had Tali been eavesdropping on some of it? _All_ of it?

“Tali! That’s—” The word she was looking for was reprehensible, but she couldn’t push it past her lips.

“I don’t listen to the _contents_ ,” she said swiftly. “I set up an algorithm to automatically capture the audio files, scramble them and dump them into a central database. I just like…” she sighed, deflating a little. “I just like the sound of people. Talking. Breathing. _Living_. It helps me feel less lonely.”

“And you’re sure you don’t…hear what’s being said?”

Tali shook her head. “No. The program automatically splices up the contents of each file and redistributes it. I could isolate certain feeds, but it would sound like gibberish. If I really wanted to I might be able to piece some of it back together, but it would take, well. In some cases it could take years.”

Liara went back to listening, still uneasy, but as the moments ticked by she found herself relaxing back into her seat, letting the jumbled whispers wash over her. If she closed her eyes the voices took on an ethereal quality.

“You know, this is kind of…nice.”

“Glad you like it,” Tali replied softly. 

One eye cracked open. “Shepard would be…unhappy if he found out.”

She made a fretful noise in her throat. “That’s why I haven’t told anyone else.

Liara thought about what might be happening outside the Mako. Garrus, Alenko and Wrex discussing weapons and mods. Dr. Chakwas going over medical charts in her tiny back office. Shepard in his quarters, maybe, just maybe, thinking of her. Wondering, perhaps, if she had the courage to do what she’d promised. Tears pricked at her eyes.

“Tali…I’m not sure if I can do this.”

She felt a hand on her arm. “Yes you can. We’re going to help you. You aren’t alone.”

For a moment, within the confines of the tank, surrounded by the voices of her crewmates, Liara believed her.

   

  

 

 


	26. Nix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up to everyone that I am participating in NaNoWriMo this year. I still plan to update weekly, but finding time to revise those chapters might be tricky, so if I'm late or end up skipping a week, I'm sorry! Just know that it means more story down the road. THANKS!

Shepard scowled out the windows of Port Hanshan, watching the white swirl of snow whip and snarl across Noveria’s muted, ashen landscape. The craggy mountain peaks dominating the barren, hostile terrain were nothing more than blurred smudges under the thick, angry white whorls. He could almost feel the cold seeping in through the windows, even though behind him the bustling port was a warm, living hive of wary activity.

Large slabs of monochrome granite lined the main plaza, interrupted by the occasional fountain burbling water that looked as frigid as the ice clinging to the outer window pane. Hushed exchanges between patrons faded into brooding white noise that echoed against the stone. Every interaction on Noveria was founded on a whisper or a false smile. Benezia probably felt right at home.

A few meters away Liara leaned against a post, arms wrapped around herself as if to ward off the chill from the snow blowing outside. Shepard glanced quickly away. He wanted to blame the maelstrom of thoughts swirling in his brain at the sight of her on the lingering effects of the meld, but Shiala proved that to be wishful thinking. He had carefully plucked the asari thrall’s presence from his mind and packed it away, leaving it as nothing more than a fading afterimage.

But with Liara it wasn’t so easy. The memory of her clung to him, still so vivid and distinct at times he could swear she was still there. The feeling was not an unwelcome one, and that’s what had him on edge. They were here for Benezia. Liara was an asset. He couldn’t afford to think of her as more than that.

Enemies were enemies. Thinking of them as anything more only added…complications.

As if there weren’t enough to deal with already. Several ERCS guards had made themselves pointedly visible not long after their arrival, no doubt at the request of Anoleis, the priggish salarian administrator Shepard had had to resist shooting in the head just on principle. Apparently powerful biotech companies skirting the law on Noveria did not enjoy the presence of Spectres. Word about the incident in the cargo bay had apparently already spread.

No one confiscated his gun.

But they could, apparently, confiscate his tank.

The Binary Helix facility was located in the Skadi Mountains, and Anoleis himself had confirmed Benezia headed there several days ago with an escort of what were likely asari commandos. But the blizzard had grounded Noveria’s transportation systems. Upon hearing Shepard’s declaration that the Mako didn’t give a shit about snow, Anoleis had promptly leveraged the one countermeasure the Noveria Development Corporation had against a Spectre: beurocracy. They had been sitting in Port Hanshan for nearly six hours getting paperwork taken care of that would allow them to deploy the tank.

His gaze slid once more to Liara.

_You can’t ask her to do this_ , he told himself.

No, it wasn’t that he couldn’t. He _could._ Wasn’t that why they’d made him a Spectre? He was the Butcher of Torfan, had ordered nearly a hundred men to their deaths. This should have meant nothing to him. But it did. Because of _her._  He didn’t want to ask her to hunt down her own mother.

But he had to. They needed to know what she knew, and without Liara there was little reason to think he could force her to cooperate. _Nothing you say will interest her,_ she had told him. _But she might listen to me._

Liara caught him watching her, forced a smile, then quickly turned her back and walked away, shoulders hunched. Shepard exhaled slowly, watching her go.

_“Commander.”_

He jumped just a little at the sound of his pilot’s voice over the comm, eyes lingering just a moment before he turned away to answer. “Joker? You better have good news for me.”

_“Um…about that. I think you need to get to the cargo bay. Before Tali murders an inspector.”_

Shepard blinked. “Wait, what? Inspector?”

_“Some NDC turian wearing a very official looking suit. He even has a fancy clipboard. It’s adorable, really.”_

“What the hell is someone from the NDC doing on my ship?” Shepard demanded.

_“I’m going to take a wild guess and say inspecting. Seriously, Commander, you should really get over here.”_

Growling under his breath, Shepard made his way back to the docking bay. If Anoleis even _thought_ about impounding his ship, Port Hanshan was going to need a new docking bay.  

When stepped off the _Normandy’s_ elevator into thecargo bay he found Garrus standing between a barely constrained Tali’Zorah and a turian, who was indeed wearing an NDC uniform and carrying a datapad. Shepard’s experience reading turian expressions was for the most part limited to what he’d gleaned so far from Garrus, but smugness oozed from this one’s plates. Pressly stood near them with his arms folded in front of his chest, a pained look on his face. The altercation had been hot enough that even Joker had come to watch.

“You wouldn’t know good engineering if it crawled through your induction port!” Tali raged, as Garrus calmly tightened his grip on her arm.

The turian merely skimmed his datapad. “Since observation skills don’t appear to be your strong point, I should inform you I don’t _have_ an induction port, as my immune system is up to the task. But if your Migrant Fleet is any indication, you shouldn’t feel bad that makeshift field repair is the best you’re capable of. I’m sure you measure up to the rest of your people quite well.”

Tali let loose with a string of quarian expletives that thankfully didn’t translate.

“What the hell is going on?” Shepard demanded. “Who are you and why are you on my ship?”

“I am Inspector Maverius,” the turian said with a sigh. “I am in charge of authorizing this… _vehicle_ for use on Noverian soil.  Upon going through the maintenance records I discovered some field repairs had been made recently. Those repairs are not up to code, and must be completed using approved, dealer made parts before approval can be granted.”

Tali jerked against Garrus’ hold. “I’ll tell you what you can do with your _code_ , you arrogant _cha’tik!”_

 Joker put a hand to his mouth to stifle some laughter, and Shepard shot him a murderous look. “First off. Who the hell gave you permission to come aboard my ship? It sure as _hell_ wasn’t me.”

Pressly cleared his throat. “I did, sir. Thought it would help move things along a little quicker, ironically.”

The turian’s mandible quivered.

Shepard sighed. “Second of all. I don’t know what kind of ‘code’ you’re referring to, but considering this is Alliance machinery, the only ‘code’ I care about is theirs. And I have very little concern for _that_.”

“That is your prerogative, Commander,” Maverius replied smoothly. “I am sure we’ll have the tram system running again in a few days. Unfortunately Aleutsk Valley blizzards can be lengthy. It is a drawback to doing business on Noveria, but one our clients have learned to endure.”

Garrus leaned close to Shepard without losing his grip on the agitated quarian. “Sir,” he murmured. “I am not opposed to nonchalantly finding a strategic vantage point and putting his head in my crosshairs.”

It was _unbearably_ tempting.

“What do we need to do to unload my tank and get the hell out of this port,” Shepard said through gritted teeth.

Maverius went back to his datapad. “I can place a requisitions order for you. The parts should arrive in a few days, and our technicians can install if your people aren’t up to it. For a nominal fee, of course.”

Tali squirmed. “Why you—”

“We’ll handle it,” Shepard replied. “But pass something along to your administrator for me.”

One mandible flicked. 

A grim smile played across Shepard’s lips. “Get out of my way. Look at my service record. That was _before_ I was a Spectre. What makes you think I wouldn’t kill both of you just because it was more convenient than dealing with your bullshit?”

The turian swallowed. “I will pass your message to the administrator.”

“Good. Now get off my ship. Pressly, escort the inspector to the airlock, please. And if he gives you any problems, I’m sure Wrex would be happy to assist.”

Maverius’ eyes widened slightly, telling Shepard he had at least laid eyes on the krogan. Without further argument he departed, swiftly, leaving them alone in the cargo bay with the sound of Joker’s slow clap. “Bravo, Commander. Don’t think I’ve ever seen a turian shit his pants before. I’d say great performance, but I’m pretty sure you don’t do improv.”

“You should have let me lay him out,” Tali seethed.

Joker grinned. “I love that our quarian has a temper.”

“You know what?” Shepard said suddenly. “I’m granting shore leave. Take the night off, everyone. This place has a lounge. Use it.”

“Please tell me a planet swimming in corporate espionage has hookers,” Joker replied, lazing heavily on his crutches with a dreamy look on his face.

 Shepard glared at him. “Within reason, Flight Lieutenant.”

Joker rolled his eyes. “Relax, Commander. The heart is willing, but I highly doubt my Alliance medical coverage will be inclined to cover the bills when - what I’m sure would be a very _classy_ asari call girl - shatters my pelvis.”

Shepard sighed. “Blow off some steam tonight, everyone. Because I’m not kidding. Tomorrow morning we’re leaving this port.”

~

Ashley didn’t think it was possible to find a place more pretentious and uncomfortable than the Port Hanshan plaza, but the hotel dispelled her assumptions quite nicely. Its high, vaulted ceilings were designed to make everyone feel small, the cold marble floors reflecting sound so brazenly most everyone whispered. The tables in the area were deliberately spaced to discourage eavesdropping, though that didn’t stop anyone from trying.

She’d been greeted with more than a few horrified looks when she’d walked into the bar with Wrex. That the people here were offended or disgusted by the krogan rather than nervous about him told her all she needed to know. On Noveria money solved all inconveniences. No reason to be afraid of a krogan when you could just turn around and pay another one to make sure he didn’t start any shit. At least Wrex seemed just as offended by all of them as they did of him.

“Ok,” Ashley said, scooting her empty glass around on the table they’d claimed. Any nearby patrons had cleared out not long after they’d sat down. The privacy was nice, but it meant she had to work extra hard to flag down the bartender for a refill. “Asari commandos. What’s the best defense against their biotics?”

“Keep moving,” Wrex remarked. His chair creaked. Ashley was amazed it even held him.

“Right. I’m a heavy soldier who goes into combat strapped with at least four different guns, but stop drop and roll like a skinny assed gymnast should be no problem.”

The krogan shrugged. “It isn’t for me.”

“You’re a battle tank with barriers,” Ashley informed him. “If someone pegs you with a warp field you just laugh and blow their face off with a shotgun.”

His lips curled back in a smile. “Stick with your other human,” he suggested. “Let him handle the commandos. They’ll be more interested in countering his attacks than worrying about yours.”

“What, you mean Alenko?”

Wrex nodded. “He should be useful for something.”

She chuckled, clinking the ice cubes and looking pointedly towards the bar. She knew the turian bartender saw her, the tight-assed bastard. His mandibles were clenched so tight against his jaw his teeth probably hurt. “Lay off. He’s plenty useful.”

“If you say so.”

Ashley made one last futile attempt to flag down a waiter, resigning herself to the fact she was going to have to visit the bar if she wanted another whiskey and whatever liquid Noveria claimed was cola.

Wrex gave her a long, scrutinizing look, then heaved to his feet. “You need something stronger than that human piss,” he informed her, ambling towards the bar. She blew a puff of air, making yet another futile attempt to move a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. Not for the first time she considered shaving her head, but for all her indifference to her overall appearance, she was forced to admit her long hair was something she was rather proud of.  

“Hey,” a voice said.

Speak of the devil.

“Join us, LT,” she said, gesturing to a seat. “Wrex and I were discussing asari commandos.”

He tilted his head. “Impressive, aren’t they?” he said, not, she noticed, taking a seat. “From Liara’s notes they aren’t very heavily armored, but they’re supposed to be wicked fast.”

Ashley scoffed. “Unless they can outrun bullets, I’m more inclined to stick with nice, solid armor and a big gun. Or several big guns.”

“Point,” he conceded.

She looked from him to the chair. “What, you too good to drink with a krogan and a noncom, _lieutenant?_ ”

He only looked slightly offended. “Actually, Joker, Adams, Pressly and I are going to try and teach Garrus and Tali how to play poker. Want in?”

Ashley swallowed a grimace. Another night in front of the cargo bay lockers wasn’t something she was eager to repeat. “No thanks. Besides, you’d just steal all the credits I was planning to drink with.” She forced a smile.

A wounded look crossed his face. “You sure? Joker has it out for me. I’d feel better if you were on my six.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, smiling in spite of herself. “I’ve got you from here. I’m good with a sniper rifle, remember?”

His gaze lingered on her for a moment. Then he nodded. “Sure, no problem. But if you want to join in, you’re more than welcome to.”

“Thanks,” she replied, shifting in her seat.

Wrex headed back to the table, holding two shot glasses (well, one was a shot glass, the other probably did double duty as a soup bowl) filled with a reddish brown fluid that looked like liquid rust. Kaidan watched him, eyebrow raised. “You know, if you need backup, just yell.”

She laughed. “Go steal their lunch money, Kaidan.”

He grinned and headed over to another table, where Joker, Tali and Adams were now seated. Garrus and Pressly chatted idly at the bar. At this rate Ashley figured the NDC would gladly expedite the release of the Mako, if for no other reason than to kick their asses the hell out.

Wrex watched Kaidan retreat with a wary scowl.

“Why do you hate Alenko so much?” she asked, taking the shot glass he offered.

“Shepard’s _krant_ should be warriors,” the surly krogan replied. “He’s better off with the turian at his side.”

“He’d save your ass same as he’d save mine,” she argued, gaze drifting briefly to the LT’s table. “He’s a good guy.”

“That’s the problem,” Wrex said, in a belittling tone that sounded remarkably like her father had when he tried to teach her the ways of the world. The krogan turned his head slightly, fixing Ashley with his left eye. “The universe takes ‘good’ guys, chews them up and spits them out,” he said. “There’s no place for that on the battle field. He’s not ready for what lies ahead.”

Ashley scowled at the glass in front of her, unsure why the comment put her in such a foul mood.

“So what is this, exactly?” she asked, indicating the drink. It smelled even more toxic than it looked.

“Ryncol,” Wrex said. “Hits aliens like ground glass.”

“That sounds _delightful_.”

“You can handle it.”

The vote of confidence inspired an odd flush of pride. “No chaser?”

“ _Chaser?_ ”

“Never mind.” She held her breath, closed her eyes and tossed the drink back. It burned the back of her throat like she’d scorched it with acid. Trying not to choke she slammed the empty glass back on the table. “Oh, God. I think I can smell colors.”

Wrex grinned. “I’ll get you another.”  

~

Garrus was quickly discovering that poker wasn’t that much different than turian strategy games, only instead of interactive game boards it used thin pieces of cardboard with specially colored symbols and numbers. Strategy he was good at. But keeping the symbols straight (four codes with only two colors seemed needlessly complicated) was a whole other story.

The liquor didn’t help either. Noveria had a dextro selection that rivaled the Citadel’s, and Garrus was taking full advantage of it. Even Tali was risking a few toxin filters to partake.

Liquor or no, Alenko only needed two turns to demand Garrus put his visor on the table so he’d quit using it to scan everyone’s hands.

“What?” Garrus complained, reluctantly removing the headpiece and setting it down. “I’m learning.”

“Not on my credits you’re not,” Pressly declared.

Alenko proceeded to bluff the navigator out of thirty credits. Or at least that’s how it was explained to Garrus.  

“I don’t understand what just happened,” Tali said. “Can someone explain what just happened?”

“See, here’s the problem,” Joker said, manipulating the deck of cards with hand motions that Garrus didn’t understand but _needed_ to learn. “Part of me wants to tell you to back off and let someone else win, for once. But the other part of me knows that if you do, it’s a hollow victory. So I’m trying to decide what’s more valuable to me, credits or dignity.”

“He’s leaning towards credits,” Pressly said.

“No really,” Tali insisted. “How does bluffing work? I’d like to try it.”

Joker tilted his head to the side. “You know what, considering no one can see your face you’d actually probably be really good at it. As soon as you learn to tell a Queen from a King, anyway. And by the way, Garrus? You look really weird without that visor.”

Garrus wasn’t going to admit it to Joker, but he _felt_ weird without it. He usually only took it off to sleep and bathe.

Adams whistled suddenly. Garrus looked up to see Dr. Chakwas exit the elevator from the plaza, wearing a long, flowy vestment that most definitely wasn’t military regs. From the intrigued expressions of everyone at the table Garrus surmised it was a pleasant transformation.

“Damn,” Joker said, dealing out the next hand. “The doc can sure wear a dress.”

Adams stood up from the table, straightening his uniform. “Excuse me, everyone. Deal me out. Karin and I are having dinner.”

“Adams,” Joker said with a sly grin. “Something you want to tell the class?”

The engineer gave him a withering look. “I’m not even dignifying that with a response.”

“Good, then I can let my imagination run wild. And believe me, it is.”

Pressly rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to hide a smile. There was a lot about human interaction that still just sailed right over Garrus’ head. He glanced over at Tali, who carefully studied the cards Joker dealt her in between sips from a straw that hooked in to her suit. Joker had likened it to a “beer helmet,” something Garrus made a mental note to look up later.

He looked down at the numbers and symbols in his own hand and idly stroked his mandible with the tip of a talon. “Someone explain to me again the difference between a club and a…spade?”

“Clubs have three rounded points,” Alenko said.

“I thought that was the spade,” Tali said.

“Why isn’t it just a _club_?” Garrus complained. “Wouldn’t that be easier? Or why these symbols at all? Why not something more recognizable, like guns and omnitools?”

Alenko placed a bet. “The game predates omnitools, Garrus.”

Pressly snorted. “It might even predate guns.”

Garrus grumbled.

“Maybe we should start Garrus with something a little simpler,” Joker suggested. “Like Go Fish.”

Tali took a pull from her straw. “I’m not sure what fish have to do with cards.”

“Never mind.”

Alenko rubbed his chin then idly scanned the room, eyes lingering for a moment on Wrex’s table. “Hey, anyone seen Shepard?” he asked. “Or Liara?”

Pressly tapped the table with his fingers, eyes glued to his hand. “Dr. T’Soni checked back in on the _Normandy_ before I came ashore. The commander was in the plaza a while ago.”

“If he’s looking for a few quick credits, that hanar shopkeeper down there asked me to smuggle for it,” Joker piped up.

Pressly rolled his eyes. “It did not.”

“Did too. Cross my heart. I turned him down because of my unwavering integrity.”

_Cross my heart_ , Garrus thought. What the hell did _that_ one mean?

“More likely your inability to discreetly escort a package around Port Hanshan,” Pressly replied, reaching out to waggle one of Joker’s crutches.

“Low blow, old man.”

“Maybe I should go look for Liara,” Tali suggested. “I don’t understand this game, anyway.”

“I don’t think she wanted company,” Pressly said.

Tali’s shoulders sank. “Well, what about Shepard, then? Maybe he needs help with mission prep?”

Joker sighed happily. “I’m almost hoping Anoleis tries to hold us up in the morning, just to see Shepard make good on his threat.”

To be honest, Garrus kind of was too. He looked back at his hand and squinted at one with a heart on it. “Ok. So someone explain the funny looking human whose name appears to be Jack.” He paused. “You know what? Never mind. Tali, want some company?” She stood, wobbled ever so slightly, then made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “I would be honored, Mr. Vakarian.”

With a flourish Garrus bowed and extended his arm to Tali. “Shall we? There’s a fellow friendly turian sitting over that way. Maybe he has some useful information we can pass along to the commander.”

She took his arm as graciously as she could, managing to catch a toe briefly on a chair leg in the process.

“I won’t tell anyone you’re actually leaning on me for support,” he said in a low voice as they made their way back to the hotel elevator.

“You’re a gentleman, Garrus Vakarian.”

“My pleasure, Ms. Zorah.”

 


	27. Immisceratur

Shepard headed back through port security and lingered in front of one of the shops in the main plaza. A hanar had an ERCS grenade mod for sale that looked promising, along with a Rosenkov Materials license and a medi-gel enhancement formula that Dr. Chakwas had messaged him about earlier. All experimental, all extremely expensive, but thanks to a little time spent cataloguing gasses and rare minerals along the way, Shepard had some credits to spare.

A woman leaning against the wall outside the shop cleared her throat as he walked past.

“Commander Shepard. Have a moment?”

He turned, fighting back a sigh. He’d already had to deflect an oddball request from the hanar. All he wanted to do was buy some gear and get the hell out of there. At this point he almost, _almost_ would have preferred dealing with another thorian.

“I don’t have time to talk right now—” he began.

“I have information about Matriarch Benezia,” she interrupted, expression serene. She was tall, dark skinned, with sharp green eyes and long hair pulled tight into a professional bun. “It’s all yours in exchange for a favor.” 

“I know you,” Shepard said after a moment.  “You’re Anoleis’ assistant.”

She smirked. “I’m also a little more than that.” She held out her hand. Shepard took it, albeit warily. Her voice was friendly, but there was something hard in her posture that cautioned him to tread lightly.

 “My name’s Gianna Parisini,” she said. “I think we can help each other out. Care to join me for a drink at the hotel bar?”

“If you’re buying.”

A playful smile tugged at her lips. “Not very chivalrous, are we Shepard?”

He scratched his cheek. “I doubt chivalry means very much on Noveria.”

“Touché.” She held out her arm, and in spite of himself Shepard took it.

“Lead on, Ms. Parisini.”

~

Wrex had grown tired of the bar. Aliens drank too quietly, too desperately. On Tuchanka krogan drank with their fists, their voices – it wasn’t a quiet affair, it was an outlet for rage or victory, sometimes both, because the line separating them sometimes ran thin. A krogan always let you know where he stood. The kind of people drowning themselves in this bar constantly kept their eyes open for something to exploit. His hand hadn’t left his shotgun since he’d come in.

But even worse than corporate subterfuge was how _dull_ alien bars were. The Williams-human was somewhat of an exception – any non-krogan who could hold their ryncol went up a few notches in his book – but after a while even she had had become too distracted by the _Normandy_ aliens sitting at the other table to stay interesting.

“You’d think they’d have run out of credits by now,” she said, flicking at a straw wrapper.

“I don’t think it’s about credits,” Wrex said with a heavy grunt.

The Pressly human had an odd, snorty laugh audible from any point in the room, and the frequency in which they heard it had steadily increased throughout the evening.

Williams’ eyes narrowed. “See that woman over there? At the bar?”

“No.”

“She’s trying to impress him.”

Wrex heaved a heavy sigh. “Who.”

“Alenko.”

“Why?”

She rolled her eyes. “Humans have this thing about uniforms.”

Wrex grunted in distaste. “She smells too clean. Like a coddled whelp.”

The Williams-human smirked, slouching back in her chair. “Seems pretty spot on to me. I bet the hardest part of her day is breaking a nail.” She drummed her fingers on the table, then slumped even further into her seat. “I don’t like that girl.”

“So eat her. I doubt anyone would miss her.”

She sighed, almost wistfully. “I wish everything were that simple. Someone pisses you off, eat them. Problem solved.”

Wrex snorted. “It is that simple. You make it more complicated.”

Pheromones. That was another reason the Alenko human irked him so much. For a fertile species humans were way too dense.

He shoved to his feet. Garrus and the quarian were deep in conversation with another turian, heads bent low and whispering, occasionally glancing around to see if anyone was watching. They were up to something, and Wrex wanted in.

“Where are you going?” Williams demanded.

“To find something interesting.”

She made a face. “Right. Fine. Whatever. I’ll watch the flyboys over there, make sure they don’t slip and fall in their drinks.”

Wrex ambled over to his crewmates and placed a hand on each shoulder. The unfamiliar turian, to his credit, reacted only by taking another sip of his drink.

“Wrex!” Tali said cheerfully. “This is Lorik Qui’in. He might be able to help expedite our departure. But he needs a favor from us.”

“Does it involve guns?”

Garrus tilted his head. “Depends on what’s on the other side of a locked door.”

“I’m in.”   

~

Shepard could feel every one of his crewmate’s eyes on him as he entered the bar with Parisini. Very deliberately he avoided eye contact, guiding her to a table and signaling to a waiter for drinks. She ordered a glass of wine, he opted for whiskey.

“I usually prefer martinis,” she told him, nodding at a few executives who walked past their table, “but turian bartenders just don’t have a knack for them.”

 “You should go to Elysium,” Shepard replied. “There’s a little place in Illyria, corner of Elwood and Donau, on the south end of the city. They make great martinis.”

She smiled. “Thanks for the tip.”

A volus waiter brought their drinks, the constant rasp and rattle of his suit threatening to upset the glasses on his carefully balanced tray. He wheezed a greeting, deposited the drinks and scuttled off back toward the bar as fast as his squat legs would take him.

“All right, Ms. Parisini,” he said once they were alone once more. “What is this information you have for me?”

She tapped a perfectly manicured nail on the table, sizing him up. “Something’s happened at the Peak 15 facility.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Peak 15?”

“The Binary Helix lab.”

Shepard pushed the whiskey aside and leaned forward a little. “What do you mean?”

“Hang on, Commander. Like I said, I need a favor.” He started to argue but she held up her hand. Behind them raucous laughter erupted from the table where his navigator, pilot and lieutenant sat under the pretense of playing cards. There was no mistaking Pressly’s distinct cackle.

“You’ve never worked in the corporate world, have you?” she asked. “You can’t bludgeon your way through bureaucracy.”

He folded his hands across his chest. “I don’t know. I can bludgeon pretty hard.”

Her lips turned up in a playful smirk. “I’m sure. But can I offer an alternative? I’m with Noveria Internal Affairs. I’m here under cover investigating Administrator Anoelis.”

“Ok. What does that have to do with me? Everyone’s made it pretty clear they aren’t exactly glad I’m here.”

“Spectres are bad for business,” she said with a shrug. “Companies like Binary Helix come here to operate without the…scrutiny of the Council.”

“With noble intentions, I’m sure.”

“Thankfully, Commander, ethics isn’t my job. Protecting NDC interests is. Administrator Anoleis has committed the one crime Noveria doesn’t tolerate – stealing their money.”

“Again,” Shepard said, taking a sip of his drink. “What does that have to do with me?”

She smiled. “You’re a Spectre. You have a little more, shall we say, freedom, to get what I need to arrest him. In return, I’ll give you some information that might be helpful when you head out in the morning.”

Wrex stomped past them on his way to the elevator. “This human bothering you, Shepard?”

“I’m good, Wrex,” Shepard said, smiling a little. “Thanks.”

The krogan’s lip curled ever so slightly, exposing a row of teeth. “The turian, quarian and I are going…sightseeing. If you need us, just yell.” He looked Parisini up and down. “I’m no judge of desirable human breeding traits. But if she suits you—”

“Thank you, Wrex,” Shepard said loudly. The krogan nodded and continued on his way.

Parisini watched him go. “Krogans, huh? Boy, when you said you like bludgeoning you weren’t kidding.”

Shepard finished his glass. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Now. About Peak 15. You’ve got to give me more than that to go on.”

Parisini rested her arms on the table and lowered her voice. “A few hours ago we lost contact with the facility. Before they went offline someone initiated a Code Omega.”

“Which means?”

“Critical containment failure,” she replied, swirling the wine inside her glass. Shepard straightened. “Code Omega shuts off the power, in hopes the cold will kill anything that escapes. All the biolabs are wired for such a contingency.”

“Any _thing?_ What the hell were they working on over there?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, Commander. I don’t have that information. Even if I wasn’t bound to client confidentiality, the NDC doesn’t require full disclosure.”

“All you’re worried about is the royalties,” Shepard muttered.

Her expression remained unapologetic. “Our clients come here looking for discretion. We sell it to them for a handsome fee. Everyone wins, Commander.”

“Is the Matriarch still alive?” he asked.

“No way to know that without going there,” she replied. “And now that the code has been initiated, the Executive Board will vote on whether or not to destroy the facility from orbit.”

“When?” Shepard demanded.

She smiled, green eyes glittering. “I can help…delay that vote. And I can give you the access codes you need to reactivate the VI that runs the facility. In the event of a Code Omega the system is purged. But in return I need something from you.”

His eye twitched. “I’m listening.”

She placed her arms on the table and leaned forward. “Anoleis has been accepting bribes. The manager of Synthetic Insights has the evidence I need to put him away, but Anoleis is on to him. He paid off his security to accuse Qui’in of corruption and ransack his office.”

Shepard ran a hand over his head. “Damn, I hate politicians,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I still don’t know how I figure in to this.”

“The manager’s name is Lorik Qui’in. Talk to him. Find a way into his office and get whatever information he had against the Administrator. If he’ll testify I’ll make sure all the charges against him are dropped. And _you_ ,” she said, reaching over and tapping the table in front of Shepard, “will get the information you need to gain access to Peak 15.”

Shepard considered her for a moment, then inhaled deeply through his nose. “Here’s what we’re going to do, Ms. Parisini. You’re going to give me whatever information you have on Peak 15. Now. In return, I’m going to leave two of my officers here to help you get whatever it is you need from Qui’in.”

She arched a perfect eyebrow. “I don’t need lackeys. You’re the one with a Spectre badge.”

“Actually, you know, they never gave me a badge.”

She took a sip from her glass, a smile playing about the corners of her lips. “I doubt that stops you.”

“No,” he replied. In spite of her affiliations, he found himself liking the woman.

“And your…officers. They can be discreet? If you leave me a krogan, I’m going to be a little disappointed.

The thought of Wrex terrorizing a turian businessman almost made him laugh. “I’m pretty sure if there are unknown bio experiments running around in that lab, the angry krogan’s coming with me. But to answer your question…I will leave you people who can get the job done as well as I could.”

“For someone who doesn’t play ball with lawyers and politicians you sure play the game pretty well,” she observed with a playful smirk. “Because as helpful as it would be, somehow I think you like discretion about as much as you like bureaucracy.”

“Depends on how many guns the other side has.”

“I like you, Commander,” she said with a laugh, and took another sip of her drink. “So two of your men and an IOU. That’s the deal?”

“That’s the deal.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line, forehead wrinkling. “Not exactly the agreement I was hoping for, but it’s the one I’ll have to live with.”

“Good.” He stood up once more. “Now if you’ll excuse me. Bartender? Put her on my tab.”

The turian at the bar nodded, and Shepard headed for the elevator. Williams sat alone at the table Wrex had vacated, and when he passed  he jerked his head in a silent request for her to join him. She rose without complaint and followed.

“What’s up, Skipper?”

He glanced around them, then lowered his voice. “Every time I walk somewhere in the place someone finds a way to stop me, ask me for some bizarre favor or to run some obnoxious errand.”

She snorted, then put a hand to her mouth. “Sir, are you asking me to protect you?”

“I’m asking you to be a sacrificial lamb.”

She patted his arm. “May this offering appease the gods and grant you peace from your suffering.”

“Cute.”

“I try.”

~

When they reached the main plaza, Ashley expected Shepard to head for the ship. But to her surprise he loitered near the windows, looking out onto the bleak, snowy gale still tormenting the mountains. To the casual eye he looked relaxed, comfortable, just another visitor enjoying the view – if the average visitor wore an N7 insignia and refused to go anywhere without at least a Brawler pistol at his side. But Ashley could read the tension in his shoulders, the occasional twitch in his hand, the way his eyes shifted regularly, observing everyone in the plaza with them and keeping in mind the available lines of sight and every available strategic advantage and entry/exit points. He did it even more subconsciously than she did, and better – he’d spotted the salarian wearing a custom tailored suit who appeared three pillars down nattering into a headset well before she had.

“Something on your mind, sir?” She rested her elbows on the metal railing beside him, stretching her back and sighing in satisfaction when something popped.

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around the infuriating bureaucracy of this place,” he replied. She spotted him appraising an asari on their four, deep in conversation with a turian clerk.  

She blew at a loose tuft of hair hanging in her eyes. “Glad it’s you and not me. I can handle an enemy just fine when he’s firing a gun. When he’s looking at me from across a table I don’t know where he’s drawing from.”

Shepard smiled a little. “That means you’re probably going to hate what I’m about to ask you.”

“Why do I get the feeling that when you say ‘ask me’ what you mean is ‘do it or I’ll kick your ass’?”

The smile turned into a chuckle. “Anoleis’ assistant is going to get us out of Port Hanshan, but she needs a favor.”

Ashley groaned.

“There’s a turian somewhere around here who can give her some dirt on the Administrator. Something about Synthetic Insights. I’m leaving you and Tali here to get whatever it is she needs.”

“You’re right. I do hate you. Why me? This sounds like a covert op without a sniper rifle, and that’s the only part of a covert op I’m _good_ at. Why not send Alenko?”

“Send me to do what?”

She looked over her shoulder to see the lieutenant standing behind them with his arms crossed over his chest, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Go ballroom dancing with a turian,” she replied.  

Alenko blinked, looked her up and down in a way that was oddly exhilirating, then stifled a laugh.

She narrowed her eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“Sorry,” he said, eyes warm and friendly and not the _least_ bit sorry, “was imagining you and those neon green boots under a ball gown.”

Shepard coughed into his hand. Ashley shot him a murderous look before punching Alenko in the shoulder, then made room for him to join them in their rail lounging.

“What _is_ with those boots?” Shepard asked, leaning over the railing to eye the garish laces.

“Long story,” Kaidan replied.

“I’ll bet.”

“Right, right, funny,” Ashley muttered. “So what are you doing down here, LT? Did your prey up in the bar catch on you were bleeding them dry?”

Alenko laughed, a carefree little huff that was infuriatingly charming. “No, Joker and Pressly reached the inevitable juncture of their evening that involves picking fights over the finer points of celestial navigation.”

“Those two should get married and just call it a day.” She swiveled her head back to Shepard, who still gazed out at the snow. Despite his continued brooding, she did note that some of the tension had eased out of his shoulders, and his stance looked less like someone looking for snipers and more like someone just enjoying the view. “You’re not off the hook, by the way. Why me?”

“Because I have faith in you,” Shepard replied.

She fell uncharacteristically silent, uncomfortably aware that at some point since accompanying down here the tables had turned, and she hadn’t even realized it. All along she thought she’d been observing him. Now she thought maybe it was the other way around.

“What,” he prodded, “is that so hard to believe?” She felt his gaze and shifted her feet, watching the green laces flop. She might have imagined it, but she could have sworn Alenko slid fractionally closer to her. She caught a whiff of his aftershave that hadn’t been there a moment ago, something subtle and smooth, with traces of cedar and cinnamon.  

“Hey, when your CO’s constantly shove you in the back of the line, eventually you begin to believe they know something you don’t,” she said finally.

“You got this,” Shepard said, with a firmness that she did, actually, believe. “Piece of cake. Besides, you’ll have Tali. She’ll handle whatever tech roadblocks you run into.”

She sighed. “I was really looking forward to asari commandos. I wanted to see how their space magic handled my assault rifle.”

“Most things can’t handle your assault rifle,” Alenko said, suppressing a shudder. “I can testify to that.”   

Shepard raised an eyebrow. “Something I don’t know?”

The LT grimaced. “Let’s just say the geth _really_ didn’t like me messing with their bombs on Eden Prime.”

Ashley patted him lazily on the shoulder. “Got your back, killer.”

“I know,” Alenko replied, and she caught a hint of a smile on Shepard’s face.

Ashley exhaled through her nose, the mention of Eden Prime sending the names of the 212 circling through her brain. “When you two landed in Arcadia, did you ever imagine you’d wind up in the middle of something like this?”  

Shepard scuffed the heel of his boot on the stone floor. “The whole ‘Spectre on a shakedown run’ was a pretty big clue something wasn’t right, but I’ll admit this is a _little_ outside the scope I’d imagined.”  He tilted his chin. “Funny how things work out.”

“You say that like you’re _glad_ we’re chasing a madman around the galaxy.”

“We’re going to win,” Shepard replied, the forcefulness in his voice making it a hard point to argue. “We were in the right place, at the right time, and we’re going to win. Imagine if we were an hour later getting to Eden Prime. If we hadn’t found you. If Alenko’s hands has been slower. If this were in someone else’s hands and not ours.”

Her heart thudded a little faster. “Ok, you convinced me.”

“Good.” Shepard pushed back from the railing. “Then I’ll see you two in the morning.”

He headed back towards the docking bay, stride purposeful, vision never straying from his target. Ashley almost laughed when an asari tried to approach him. Though Shepard had to have seen her, he brushed past without so much as a glance, leaving her fumbling after him with her mouth open like she’d just been knocked over by an incoming tide.

Alenko, however, watched the commander’s retreating back with a furrowed brow, lips turned down in a slight scowl.

“What?” 

“Dunno,” he replied, shaking his head a little and turning back to the window. “Something’s bothering him. Guess we’ll find out.”

“Something’s up? After that _rousing_ pep talk? Are you kidding? We should go beat up on some geth.”

Alenko quirked an eyebrow. “It wasn’t for us.”

Ashley wrinkled her nose. “Bullshit. That man has no fear. You know what I bet he’d do if he met up with a thresher maw? Punch it right in its ugly face.” She smacked the heel of her palm against the railing, winced, then shook her hand.

He laughed again, leaning against the railing. “Yeah, well. Maybe he would.”

She sobered a little, remembering Shepard’s initial unease when they’d entered the plaza, then thought back to that moment in the cargo bay. _Be careful of places like this_ , he’d said _. You tuck yourself away alone in the dark like this at first just to get a few minutes to breathe. But those few minutes will start to stretch out. Before you know it you’ve forgotten the way out._

It was the voice of experience if she’d ever heard it. She wondered who had shown him the door out of whatever darkness he’d shut himself into. Alenko, maybe?

“I guess we all have our demons, huh?”

The lieutenant tapped at a post with his foot. “More or less, yeah. I guess we do.” Ashley gazed back out at the snow.

“You know I think he just said all that so I wouldn’t argue with him about staying here to dig up corporate secrets while you guys have all the fun.”

Kaidan laughed, a surprised, unexpected sound that slipped out of his mouth before he could catch it. “I doubt most people would see it as fun.”

“Yeah, I’m not most people.”

“That you’re not.”

She glanced over at him, wondering if he’d let yet another unscripted moment get away from him. His gaze remained trained on the window, parsing out the path of each flake with laser-like focus. Perhaps Shepard’s decision didn’t make any sense to him, either. Her brow tightened. For a moment it had been nice to think there wasn’t some ulterior motive behind it.

“You should have joined us in the bar,” he said suddenly, the sudden shift in topic throwing her for a quick loop. “We had a good time.”

She scoffed. “I don’t think your friend would have approved.”

His expression contorted in confusion. “What friend?”

“The girl at the bar.” When his expression didn’t change she rolled her eyes. “She was hitting on you, Alenko. Or trying to.”

“Really?” he said, making an interested noise in his throat.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

He responded with a smirk.  

“Just for the record, I’d look damn good in a dress,” she informed him.

“Yes, you would.”

That time it _was_ a slip; he tore his gaze away from the glass with a guilty, almost _panicked_ expression on his face, and Ashley felt a flush build at the base of her neck and begin to spread. There had been something so…unexpected in his tone. Her head felt a little light.

“So. Um. Head back to the ship?”

“Yes,” he said, too quickly. “Time to call it a night.”

She pivoted away from the window and began making her way across the plaza towards the docks, trying to convince herself she was reading too much into it. Behind her Alenko’s left boot squeaked every time he took a step, a sound that seemed to get progressively louder the longer they walked in silence.

People like Alenko didn’t go for people like her. And to be quite honest, people like her didn’t go for people like _him._ He probably woke up with a salute, counted every single flake of cereal in his bowl . She was lucky if she remembered to eat. Alenko was quiet, soft spoken, funny only if you were paying attention, while she was a whirlwind who laughed too loud and only paid attention to what she said after she’d already said it.

And still…

Every now and then when he glanced her way there was a look in his eyes that made her heart skip a beat.

When she spotted Tali hovering near the docking bay elevator, she exhaled with relief and sped up, trying to put a little distance between herself and the lieutenant.

“Tali!”      

The quarian jumped, the omnitool on her arm vanishing in a flash. She tucked her hands behind her back. “Chief Williams,” she said with an unmistakable stutter. “Um. What are you doing here?”

“Heading…back to the ship?” she pointed at the sign for the docking bay.

“Oh! Right. Um. I’ll come with you.”

Ashley raised an eyebrow. Alenko, she noticed, kept walking, with only a faltering smile and nod of acknowledgement in Tali’s direction.

“Is everything ok?” Ashley asked, grateful for the distraction. “Something happen?”

“Perfectly fine,” Tali said, with the same abrupt affirmation Alenko had used moments ago.

Ashley scrutinized her for a moment. Quarians may not have had facial tells like other species, but every twitch her shoulders, cant of her hips, tilt of her head was loaded with meaning. Problem was Ashley hadn’t been around her long enough to actually interpret what any of it meant beyond the obvious.

With a small sigh she resumed her course towards the docking bay, Tali following in tow. “Right, well. Good. It looks like you and me are on the same team tomorrow. Something about a turian with Synthetic Insights.”

 A pause in the young quarian’s footsteps made her turn around. Tali had frozen to the spot, so still she might have been stuck in a stasis field.

“Synthetic…Insights?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“Nothing,” she replied. “Absolutely nothing.”

Ashley could feel a headache coming on. The evening had taken a decidedly odd turn. This was going to be the _last_ time she ever drank ryncol.

By the time they reached the airlock Alenko had already passed through. Ashley waited impatiently for it to cycle, the quarian continuing her restless shuffle of feet, hands constantly fidgeting.

“See you in mission brief tomorrow,” Ashley said once they re-entered the _Normandy’s_ hold.

“Oh, sure. Absolutely.”

Had she not already been so preoccupied she might have dwelled on Tali’s strange behavior a little longer. Instead she made her way to the crew deck, scanning the faces for Alenko. When she didn’t find him, her nagging disappointment wound itself into a knot that settled in her stomach and refused to abate.


	28. Monstrum

Kaidan stood outside of the _Normandy’s_ conference room, thumbs jammed into his pockets, rolling his weight uneasily from toes to heels.

Had he…imagined what happened in Port Hanshan last night? He didn’t think he’d imagined it. Some imagining was certainly being done _right now_ , but whatever that moment of…chemistry had been last night had felt pretty real.

No way. Ashley Williams was a friend. That’s all. An impetuous, loud, outspoken friend who didn’t give a damn what other people thought and generally lacked anything resembling tact. But a _friend_. One Kaidan at this point couldn’t imagine serving on the ship without.

But that’s all it was. All it _could_ be.

So _why_ was he still standing there letting his mind wander…elsewhere?

A hand settled on his shoulder. He looked up with a start to see Shepard behind him, eyebrow raised. “Everything ok, LT?”

“Yeah,” he said, a touch too slow. “Fine.”

Shepard nodded, blue eyes uncomfortably perceptive. “Anything I should know about?”

“No,” Kaidan replied with a quick flush of guilt. “It’s fine. Really.” 

He followed the commander into the conference room, where Williams sat in a chair next to the krogan, shoulders hunched, eyes downcast and studying her fingers. When Kaidan entered she looked up, her usual smile of greeting splashed across her features, though her gaze lingered maybe half a beat too long.

Of course, he knew this because his did, too. _Idiot._

As he took a seat next to Garrus her smile faded a little, and his heart rate quickened just enough for him to notice.

Shepard cleared his throat from his seat in the center of the ring of chairs and Kaidan reluctantly shoved thoughts of Ashley out of his head, still painfully cognizant of her silhouette in his periphery.

“The Mako’s been unloaded to the port’s garage, thanks to a little…bureaucracy,” Shepard announced, scanning the room. The potential matricide looming over their heads had left the room much quieter than usual. Everyone deliberately averted their gaze from Liara, posture straight as steel.

“I’m leaving two of you here to make good on a favor I promised to our unexpected benefactor,” he went on, and nodded towards Williams and Tali. “I’m sending you some intel to review. The turian you need to find is named Qui’in. Get the information we need and deliver it to Gianna Parisini. Discreetly.”

Kaidan exhaled a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Tali shifted at the mention of the turian, straightening a little in her seat and uncrossing and crossing her legs again. If Shepard noticed, he didn’t comment.

“When that’s done, I want you to wait here and make sure that whatever happens at the lab, nothing gets back to the port unless it’s with us. Matriarch Benezia isn’t getting out of here unless it’s through me.”

Liara flinched. Ashley looked like she wanted to say something, but kept her mouth closed. Her gaze slid briefly to Kaidan, who felt his heart flip in his chest. Tali merely nodded.

“The rest of you are with me. We’re headed to Peak 15, the Binary Helix lab. And not surprisingly, I think we’re going to find some trouble.”

Kaidan had read Shepard’s notes earlier over a strong cup of coffee. The commander seemed confident Parisini wouldn’t let the board vote on whether or not to nuke the labs until they’d done what they needed to do. Kaidan could only hope he was right.

Liara’s somber expression rippled as Shepard explained the details to the rest of them, then reasserted itself more firmly than before. For someone about to head into a possible firefight with her own mother, the asari appeared remarkably well composed.

Garrus tilted his head. “What do we think they were doing? What kind of lab is Saren running way out here?”

Shepard’s jaw tightened. “Whatever it is, Parisini seems convinced it’s organic, not synthetic. So maybe we’re getting a break from the geth.” He nodded at Tali. “Think those thermite rounds work as well against organics?”

“Possibly,” she replied, the nodded in the krogan’s direction. “Wrex and I have discussed making some chemical adjustments to make them more effective against non-geth armor configurations. I’ve tested a few variations that look promsing.”

Wrex grunted his approval.  

“If we’re talking about unknown organic contaminants, we might be better off with some anti-personnel rounds,” Garrus suggested, then hesitated. “Maybe even polonium.”

Kaidan frowned. “The council doesn’t exactly condone polonium. Besides, do we even know that what’s out there is something that needs shooting? What if it’s a virus, some kind of biohazard?”

Shepard huffed. “Unless our luck changes, I’m betting it’s something that bites back.”

Williams snorted. “Only we would think that some kind of mutated hoard is preferable to germ warfare.”

“I can modify your hardsuits with toxic seals,” Tali offered. “Believe me, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Shepard nodded. “Then do it. But do it fast. I want everyone assembled ASAP. The situation out there will only get worse, not better. And we’re on the clock.”

Kaidan stood with the rest of them, but hung back as they filed out of the conference room. His odd exchange with Williams last night wasn’t the only thing on his mind. Shepard hadn’t said anything yet about what might have been bothering him last night, or why he had clearly selected Williams for a mission he was better suited to. Not that he objected to the assignment – he’d much rather be in on the action at Peak 15. But he did want to know why. Williams cast him a curious glance as he passed, but he shook his head. She shrugged and left with the others.

Shepard did not seem surprised when he remained behind. “You want to know why I’m leaving Williams here and not you.”

Kaidan shifted his feet, too accustomed to Shepard’s uncanny perceptiveness to be fazed. “Not questioning your orders, sir. Just…curious, I guess.”

Shepard held him in his gaze for a moment before answering, searching for something that Kaidan could only assume he found, because Shepard always did. But when he spoke, instead of his usual unshakable poise there was an odd token of uncertainty weaving through his voice.  Lines of doubt he’d never seen before had etched themselves into Shepard’s brow.

“You’re right. You’re the logical choice for the mission over her.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Shepard exhaled, running a hand over his head and tapping the datapad anxiously against his thigh. Seconds stretched into nearly a full minute. Shepard never, _ever_ shirked eye contact with anyone, but now his gaze deliberately wandered the room. Finally, instead of answering he asked a question.

“What do you think about Dr. T’Soni?”

Surprised, Kaidan tilted his head to the side. “I…think she’s genuine in wanting to help us. But I can’t imagine this is easy for her. In the end, no matter what Lady Benezia has done she’s still her mother.”

Shepard tapped the tip of his boot against the ramp leading up and out of the conference room, scowling. “And I might have to kill her.”

“You don’t know that’s how it’s going to end.”

“Of course it is,” Shepard said with a dark chuckle. “That’s how these things always end. Why should this one be any different? Something horrible has to happen and I get to give the order. If Benezia dies it’s on me, no matter who pulls the trigger.”

Alenko scrutinized him carefully, taking in the tightness across his jaw, the weariness lurking behind his eyes, all confirming his suspicions from the night before that something had been bothering him. Kaidan kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. _Maybe if you hadn’t been so distracted by a certain gunnery chief, you would have._

“I don’t normally have to do this knowing my enemy is someone’s mother, daughter, son…” Shepard went on. “Benezia isn’t some nameless thug the galaxy won’t miss. She has a face, and that face is going to be on our fire team.”

“We’ll get it done,” Kaidan assured him, with what he hoped sounded like confidence. But he wasn’t even sure if Shepard heard him. When the commander finally looked back at him there was something raw and bitter in his expression.  

“Do you know I almost shot my CO on Torfan?”

Kaidan opened and closed his mouth, stunned. Shepard had never volunteered any information about what had happened on that raid. “No, sir.”

A wry smile twisted his lips. One hand crossed his stomach, unconsciously brushing a spot on his left hip. “Our intel was wrong. The forces they had packed in those tunnels was probably triple what we planned for. Only way to get in was to essentially offer up our front lines to total slaughter. Major Kyle didn’t want to do it.

“They were his men. Godfather to someone’s kids, best man at someone’s wedding.” Shepard shook his head, eyes losing some of their razor-sharp focus. “He was a good guy. But when it came to making the hard call he choked. Couldn’t put people he cared for in the line of fire to make sure the mission succeeded.”

His words trailed off into an uneasy silence. Kaidan wanted to say something, _anything_ , but for the life of him couldn’t think of a single word worth uttering.

“I relieved him of duty,” Shepard continued. “Took over command. But when I made the call to push onward and stick to the plan, he got in the way. So I put a pistol to his head. And if he hadn’t stood down I would have had to decide whether or not to blow his brains out in front of the whole unit.” His forehead wrinkled with cynicism. “It’s one thing to order your men to death. Turns out gunning them down yourself is a whole other thing.”  

“But he did stand down,” Kaidan said, voice soft.

“Sometimes they don’t,” Shepard snapped. “Point is, if it had come to that, I don’t know if I could have done it.” He ground a fist into his open palm. “I sacrificed all those men to save the thousands, maybe millions, of innocent people who would have gone right on dying if we hadn’t stopped those slaving bastards. But for just a moment it all hinged on whether or not I could shoot my commanding officer.”

Now he did look Kaidan in the eye, the haze vanishing as abruptly as it had set in, expression cold and grim. “I’m bringing you with me because I trust you to make sure I do the right thing. No matter what it is.”

Kaidan nodded slowly. “I…understand. I won’t let you down.”

Shepard smiled a half smile, a small measure of relief crisscrossing his features.

“I know.”    

~

 The blizzard that had shut down the Noveria trans system had not abated when the Mako rolled out of the garage. An icy blast of biting snow swarmed the windshield the moment they were out in the open, concealing everything in front of them in a blur of white. Liara tried to imagine what her mother had been thinking when she’d set out on this same path a few days ago. Had she known something was wrong at the lab? Did it take her by surprise? Had doubt begun to seep into her mind, whispering that maybe this was not the way?

Surrounded by the bitter, frozen wasteland outside the window, she had no answer.

Shepard and Lt. Alenko, nestled into the Mako’s command seats, had diverted their attention to the nav display, abandoning any attempt to steer on sight if they wanted to avoid driving straight over the cliff. Behind them Liara kept her hand wrapped firmly around the handle to the right of her head. Wrex and Garrus rode in the infantry seats, neither saying a word.

The topography of the Aleutsk Valley was narrow and sinuous, and the road through it wound its way precariously over sheer drops and along tight, ghost-lit tunnels delved into the rock where there was no other alternative. Despite the climate controls in the Mako and her own hardsuit insisting otherwise, Liara could feel the cold seeping in through the tank’s hull and settling in her bones, deep and unassailable. In the rare moments when the curtains of snow parted enough to allow them a glimpse of the sky, it was a thick, iron gray.

“Charming place,” Garrus commented. “I’m thinking of taking my next leave here.”

Wrex grunted. “I’d rather deal with radiation than snow.”

A soft thrum trilled from the turian’s subharmonics. “Count this as a first. I’m agreeing with a krogan. The only thing worse than cold is water, and hey, here we have both.”

“I like snow,” Alenko mused, fingers flashing across his console. “Shepard, there’s a facility up ahead. The coordinates match Peak 15, but power emissions are extremely low. Looks like the main core is offline.”

“Any sign of hostiles?”

Liara’s heart caught in her throat.  

“Negative,” Alenko replied. “But I’m not picking up any life signs at all, so it’s hard to know for sure until we get closer.”

“Just once it would be nice to know what the hell we were walking in to,” Shepard grumbled.

Liara caught sight of the structure looming in the distance amidst the swirling storm, felt her heart start to pound. “Whatever happened inside the facility, you can be assured that Benezia is surrounded by a full contingent of asari commandos.” Her voice sounded calm and alien to her own ears, like it belonged to someone else entirely. Deep down all she wanted to do was scream. “They will be subtle,” she went on, “but extremely well trained. They are extraordinarily fast and very, very dangerous.”

“Assuming whatever containment breach everyone keeps complaining about didn’t kill them,” Wrex remarked.

Liara turned her head to look towards the krogan behind her. “My mother is extremely resourceful. If it was possible to survive the accident, you should trust that she did.”

“Hrmph,” the krogan replied.  “Well, I have known a few…resourceful asari in my time. If she’s as good as you say.”

Liara turned forward again, once more focusing her gaze on the torrid gale blowing outside. “She’s better.”

~

Outwardly, the Peak 15 garage showed no signs of distress. Dim track lighting from an emergency generator illuminated the silhouette of the door in an eerie red glow. Shepard shifted uneasily in his seat. Whatever containment breach had happened inside did not appear to have escaped the confines of the facility. By breaching the perimeter he could very well be opening Pandora’s box.

Well. At least it wouldn’t be the first time.

With a few swift, determined keystrokes on the Mako’s control panel Alenko managed to goad the door open, allowing the Mako to slip in out of the storm. The same emergency lighting as the exterior lit the garage, filling the long, cavernous space with brooding shadows. Scans still read clean, however, and no movement caught his eye. Shepard’s unease did not abate, but at least they were indoors and out of the wind. Some of the gusts out on the ledges had been enough to give him pause, even inside the sturdy tank.

“Well,” Garrus said once he was safely groundside. “Regardless of what’s waiting for us inside, at least we got this far without careening off a sky bridge or turning the Mako into a geth battering ram.”

 “I’m sorry,” Shepard said, pulling himself out through the hatch. “Would you rather have just been shot at?”

“Oh, I’m not arguing with your results, Commander. It’s a matter of stylistic differences.”

Wrex, already on the ground, chortled. Alenko had his omnitool out as Shepard turned and helped Liara exit the tank. He caught her shivering as a last gasp of frigid air from the closing door washed over them. Their eyes met briefly. “Temperature controls seem to be offline,” she said.

“Generators can only do so much,” Shepard replied, finally tearing his gaze away to peer down the length of the garage. A few vehicles, mostly designed for heavy terrain, were parked throughout, quiet and still.

“Facility entrance is that way,” Alenko said, pointing up a small ramp ahead and to their left. “Security seals have been activated, but those codes you got from Parisini should help us bypass them.”

The entrance into the facility opened easily. Too easily. In Shepard’s experience easy was never a good sign. A quick glance at his lieutenant told him Alenko thought the same thing.

“Turret!” Garrus yelled when the metal door cranked apart. Shepard heard the slick of metal and whine of mass accelerator charges building as every single one of them aimed their weapons, but he held up his hand. Two turrets mounted on tripods sat just inside the doorway, pointing not at them but rather down a corridor towards another door marked with an elevator symbol. No sound of spinning motors, no lights and no movement.

“They’re deactivated,” he said, frowning.

“And pointed the wrong way,” Wrex gruffed.

Garrus’ mandible fluttered. “Do you think Binary Helix was that suspicious of their own people, or just what they were working on? And before you answer, I’m not really sure which is worse.”

“One way to find out,” Shepard replied.

They edged past the powerless turrets and through the next door to an elevator. According to Alenko’s scans they were deep within a glacier now, with the main level several meters above.

“Is that where we can find the power core?” Shepard asked as it creaked to life. He didn’t know how long the generators had been running, but hopefully they weren’t out of juice yet. The only thing worse than getting stuck in an elevator was getting stuck in an elevator inside a glacier.  

Alenko shook his head. “We have to get through administration. Power core is a few more levels up. Hopefully if there’s still anyone here we’ll find them in admin.”

Shepard did not miss the glimmer of hope that crossed Liara’s face.

It faded when the elevator doors opened. A cold blast of air hit them, small whorls of snow eddying about their feet. As they stepped cautiously into an open atrium Shepard noted the overturned tables and chairs, all dusted white where the Noveria snow had crept its way inside what had until recently been a cafeteria. A thick pane of fractured glass running through a large observation window below and to their left accounted for the invading snow. Outside, the polished edges of the glacier had been lysed away enough to provide a glimpse of the fury lashing the landscape below.

Up one level to their right, overlooking the cafeteria, sat a row of admin offices, all dark. One door appeared to have been wrested off its hinges. Shepard flexed his grip on his assault rifle, hair raising on the back of his neck. From behind him a low sound rumbled through Wrex’s throat.

“Wait.”

The krogan’s gruff command halted them all in their tracks, even Shepard. He looked over his shoulder to see Wrex standing still as a statue, nose raised, eyes ablaze with a predatory glint.

“What is it?” Shepard demanded, his own senses unable to pinpoint the source if his unease.

The krogan’s lip curled, revealing a neat row of razor sharp teeth. “Do you smell that?”

Shepard smelled nothing but the crisp, hollow scent of snow, and even that was somewhat diluted through the air circulators in his helmet. He stilled, eyes roving the eerie, abandoned space.

A flash of movement from the admin offices just above them snagged Shepard’s attention, followed by a shrill, flanging chirr that sent a hiss of air through his teeth. A see-through panel into one of the admin offices shuddered, creaked, then hit the ground with a thud and spray of snow. Behind it Shepard caught the whip of two long tentacles studded by rigid prongs that splayed violently open with each resonating scream. The tentacles attached to a curved, insect-like body armored with a russet-colored carapaceperched atop four scuttling legs. The creature’s maw was a thick mass of short antennules that wavered as it moved, crowned by two long antennae that sought out Shepard and his team like a pair of roving eyes.

A harsh rattle emanated from Garrus’ subvocals. “What the….”        

“Meat,” Wrex growled, then launched himself towards the stairs at the mobile monstrosity like a trebuchet.

Shepard swore, flying to the left and firing a quick burst from his rifle in an attempt to flank the creature.   _What the hell are these things?_ he thought, struggling to balance the krogan’s temerious attack with some measure of caution.

It shot towards Wrex with sickening speed, high pitched screech echoing off the silent, empty walls, punctuated by the crack of Garrus’ rifle and steady, even pop of Alenko’s pistol. Shepard found a bead and hit the trigger, sending a shower of slugs toward the upper level. A few punched its armored hide, creating geysers of pale green gore.

The creature spat a thick gobbet of viscous fluid at Wrex, who nimbly avoided it and bulled head-first into its curved thorax with a roar, grabbing a flagellating tentacle and ripping it clean off. The creature responded with a maddened shriek, cut short by the pump of the krogan’s heavy shotgun. Its carapace exploded into a hail of chitin and cruor.

Shepard charged up the stairs after Wrex as two more of the creatures pushed up and out of a wide, long floor grate that ran the length of the veranda. One seized in mid-charge, snared by one of Liara’s singularities. A well-aimed shot from Garrus’ rifle rendered it limp, tentacles still weaving lazily about in the pulse of biotic energy.

Shepard took aim on the second but there was no need. Alenko heaved his own biotic field and swept it off its feet. With a bellow Wrex leaped after it, grabbing it by the maw of its face and twisting until there was a sickening crunch of snapping chitin. A ribbon of green fluid clung to the krogan’s face as he turned back to Shepard, sides heaving.

 “Wrex, what—”

“They’re rachni,” the warlord snarled, spitting at the corpses as he wiped his brow and flung the stringy clarets into the snow, where they sent up a hot sibilance of steam.

“Not possible,” Garrus said, plates tight with unease as he circled the corpse. “They’re extinct! Your people saw to that.”

 “Garrus is right,” Liara said, exhaling a shaky breath. “The Rachni Wars ended nearly two thousand years ago. They can’t be rachni!”

Shepard stared at the smoking, alien corpses. To humanity the rachni were nothing more than a footnote in the annals of interstellar history. But there was a reason a krogan statue still stood in the Citadel Presidium, even in the wake of the rebellions.

“Believe what you want. These were rachni.” Wrex turned a salient eye towards Shepard. “These creatures were once a threat too great for the _combined_ forces of the salarians and turians. They needed _us_ to put them down.” He curled his lip and looked at Garrus. “Sterilization was our thanks.”

Shepard held up a hand before the turian could reply. “Whatever happened in the past doesn’t help us here. Stay focused on the problem at hand. Whether or not these _are_ rachni, they’re here and they’re a threat we have to deal with. Alenko, get us to the VI core so we can get this place back up and on the grid. I want to know what the hell happened here, and what it has to do with Saren.”

As they made their way through the dark, dead admin corridor Shepard risked one last look behind him.

Was synthetic genocide not enough? Did Saren feel the need to resurrect monsters as well?

~

The VI core was located a few levels above the admin floor, delved safely inside the glacier near a tram system that provided access to the labs. It was dark, the drab, prefab corridors immersed in patternless shadow from the emergency lighting. No windows made it easier to deal with the chill – out of sight, out of mind – but Liara still shivered even within her hardsuit.

Rachni.

Liara had only seen them in old vids she’d studied in school, a dead culture she might have studied more had the protheans not seduced her so completely. Far more alien than most species uncovered by the Council, the rachni were the only known telepathic race that communicated through song, a sonorous symphony of startling beauty.

But despite their flashes of cultured enlightenment, the rachni had been escorted to death by their own violence, possessing a fearsome intelligence and unbridled aggression too great for the civilized galaxy to withstand. If she recalled, it had been the salarians’ idea to uplift the krogan as willing meat shields against the insect race. The victory had been breathtakingly absolute, but after the ensuing Krogan Rebellions many had wondered if to kill the devil they knew they had simply awoken a devil they didn’t.

They found the VI core housed within a reinforced cylindrical shell lined with computer terminals, all of which were powered down.

“Can you fix it?” Shepard asked Alenko. The lieutenant frowned at his omnitool. “We need to get the VI interface back online to give us a damage assessment. “This here appears to be the main VI terminal, but the actual databanks are located…” His fingers flashed over his omnitool. Suddenly lights appeared on one of the dark consoles and the circular floor within the core creaked. “Below.” He glanced around. “Anyone care to accompany me?”

Shepard glanced over at Garrus. “Think you three can keep those bugs off our heads for a few minutes?”

Garrus flicked a mandible. “Rogue spectres, geth, and genocidal machines? I think we can handle a few…bugs.”

Shepard grinned. “Good. Be right back.”

He stepped onto the circular platform with Alenko, which began a slow, halting descent inside the core. Liara watched until they vanished from sight. She could feel the krogan’s eyes resting heavily on her.

“If Benezia has found a way to resurrect the rachni she is more foolish than I believed,” he rumbled.

“Maybe she came here to stop it,” she replied, clasping her hands loosely behind her. The words sounded hollow even to her.

Wrex laughed deep in his throat. “You’re too smart to believe that, Liara. Shepard thinks you’re prepared for the inevitable. I just hope he’s right.”

“Back off, Wrex,” Garrus said, subharmonics resonating with a mixture of irritation and sympathy. “Let’s not make things any harder than they have to be.”

“Isn’t that your problem, turian?” Wrex shot back. “Always trying to ignore things that make you uncomfortable? Sometimes things are hard.” He swiveled his head back to Liara, who kept her gaze locked on the hole where Shepard had descended. “How you deal with them is what tells you who you are.”

“So how would you handle this in her shoes?” Garrus demanded. “If it was your parent we were after?”

“Kill her,” the krogan said with a shrug. Liara closed her eyes, fingernails digging into the skin of her palms.

Garrus glanced around the core at the entrance behind him, then poked the barrel of his rifle at a vent. “You think it will be that easy? That simple?”

“For me it was.”                                  

Liara turned to him in surprise.

Wrex grunted, his small shrewd eyes perceiving far more than she was comfortable with. “I’m always surprised at how much power other cultures put in the so-called family bond,” he said. “It’s nice to think that because someone gave birth to you they wouldn’t turn around and stab you in the back. But in practice I think you’ll find that it isn’t as true as everyone wants to believe.”

Garrus sighed. “You are just brimming with optimism, aren’t you, Wrex?”

“Funny how that happens when your species is facing extinction.”

Before the turian could respond the light panels above them flared suddenly to life. The computer terminals in the alcove where Shepard and Alenko had descended came online with a series of chirps, and the echoes of their conversing could be heard from below as the platform ascended.

“I can’t believe you’ve never heard of that trick,” Alenko said as their heads came into view.

“That’s because I preferred occasionally sleeping with women to designing hack algorithms.”

“And see where that gets you?”

Liara failed to see what was amusing about their situation, but Garrus’ plates flexed as he stifled a snicker. The platform hissed to a stop. As soon as the two of them stepped off, a holographic projection that looked vaguely like a human female appeared in the center where their feet had been.

“VI Interface online,” it said in a pleasant, efficient voice.

“Fantastic,” Shepard said with a clap of his hands. “I need a damage assessment.”

The collation of gossamer light rippled slightly as the power distribution to the emitters evened out. “Please confirm identity to determine level of access to Binary Helix databases.”

Shepard rolled his eyes a little. “Commander Shepard, Council Special Tactics and Reconnaissance.”

The VI appeared to consider this for a moment. “Identity confirmed. Secure access granted. This terminal is programmed to respond to the name ‘Mira.’ Please restate query.”

Shepard sighed, and shot a quick glare at his lieutenant. “Computers,” he grumbled. Grudgingly he restated his question.

“Diagnostics in progress,” Mira replied. “One moment please.” It offered them the digital approximation of a smile. “User alert. Critical failure. Main reactor shut down in accordance with emergency containment procedures. Manual restart required. Critical failure. Landline connections are disabled. User alert. Passenger tram systems offline. Report complete. Please state next query.”

“I’m looking for an asari Matriarch named Benezia,” Shepard replied, gaze flicking briefly, perhaps even unwillingly, to Liara, the crystal blue of his eyes momentarily as fragile as a thin pane of glass.  

 _I’m sorry_ , he’d told her, in the meld.

But it wouldn’t change anything here, and she knew it.

“Lady Benezia departed on the passenger tramway to the Rift Station subsidiary labs,” the VI responded, and Liara released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “User alert. Tramway system is currently inoperable.”

“Yes, you mentioned that,” Shepard muttered. “Who shut down the reactor? What happened here?”

“Reactor shutdown occurred after I went offline. However corporate procedure dictates reactor shutdown in response to critical containment failure.”

“Just like Parisini said,” Garrus murmured. “Shut off the power and hope everything freezes to death.”

“Tell me what happened before you went offline,” Shepard said, expression grim.

“Retrieving data,” Mira said with a politeness that made Liara grind her teeth. “Stage 1 alert issued at hot labs. Contaminants released from Laboratory Pod Gamma. Emergency protocols implemented.”

“Contaminants,” Wrex growled. “It means the rachni.”

Mira blinked. “I’m sorry. But research related queries are restricted to Privileged Access, available only to Binary Helix executives.”

“Right, fine,” Shepard said with an angry brush of his hand. “Keep going.”

“Stage II alert issued at hot labs,” it continued. “Isolation tube breached. Trams shutdown. Landline to hot labs disconnected. Stage III alert issued locally. Contaminants in tram tunnels. Station shut down and evacuation initiated. Code Omega sent.”

“She was growing them in a lab,” Liara said softly. She touched Shepard’s arm, saw the corner of his mouth twitch. “Why? The rachni were sentient beings!”

He didn’t look at her. “We don’t know for sure how she was involved with this.”

But they would. Soon. She shuddered.

“Mira,” Shepard said. “Is Benezia still alive?”

Liara’s mouth went dry.

“Critical failure,” the VI replied. “Landline connections disabled. Sub-facility access to mainframe unavailable. ”

Shepard sighed and pounded a fist against the alcove. “How do we make the repairs? We need to know how to restart the core and get the trams active again.”

“Landline router is located on the roof of operations,” it replied. “Activating the controls will reboot the hardware automatically.”

“And the power?”

“Valves to the helium-3 fuel lines must be reopened. The valves are located on the reactor assembly proper.”

“Great. Alenko. You and Wrex take care of the roof. Liara, Garrus and I will handle the fuel lines. Keep your eyes open for…contaminants. I intend to make it to Rift Station in one piece.”

Liara followed Shepard in the direction of the reactor, feet filled with lead. _Sometimes things are hard_ , Wrex had said. _How you deal with them is what tells you who you are._

But what if she didn’t want to know?   

  

 

       

 


	29. Politica Insidiaretur

Tali knotted her fingers together and cleared her throat under Williams’ wary gaze. The roar of the waterfall right behind them in the Port Hanshan plaza drowned out much of the surrounding noise, enough that anyone who might be a little too curious wouldn’t be able to overhear their conversation.  

“So,” Williams said, “you’re telling me that last night you, Garrus and Wrex tried to break in to the office of the guy we’re supposed to be colluding with right now.”

“He asked for our help!” Tali exclaimed, mouth clamping shut on the juvenile tone that snuck out of it, as though she were still a little girl getting in trouble for hitting Jorek Tellis when he made fun of her pet circuit board, or making illegal modifications to the air circulators so her room would smell like elohra flowers when she wanted to pretend she lived on Rannoch.

Every time she thought she’d proven herself capable, mature, convinced her elders to take her seriously, lapses like that provided an infuriating reminder that maybe her father was right – she still had a long way to go.

Williams put a hand to her forehead, the skin at the corner of her eyes pinching the way Pressly’s did whenever he talked to Joker. “Great. This op is over before it even begins. If Shepard gets back from Peak 15 in one piece he’s going to leave us here in Port Hanshan. I think I’d rather be spaced than stranded on this rock with a bunch of political backstabbers.”

Tali ducked her head, honing in on a scuff mark she found on the ground with intense scrutiny. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Qu’iin had been so, well…polite. Charming, even. He and Garrus had struck up some conversation about a scandal brewing with the turian Primarch, which had somehow segued into corrupt business dealings and Qu’iin revealing that Administrator Anoleis had mysteriously started doing very well for himself after taking direct control of company rents. From there things had escalated rather quickly, and Tali had merely followed along. Break into the offices of an intergalactic corporation?  Nothing to it. A simple decryption code to get past the door (which had admittedly been a bit more complicated than she’d been expecting), then use the encryption key on the OSD Qu’iin had provided them. Child’s play.

No wonder alcohol was discouraged on the flotilla. It made something completely insane seem like a brilliant idea.  

Williams scowled. “What did you find in his office?”

Tali tapped her fingers nervously against the OSD in her pocket. “Actually, we didn’t fully succeed in the, ah, mission.”

They _would_ have, if  Kaira Sterling hadn’t shown up. The blonde-haired, vexing woman with a voice that sounded like she’d swallowed gravel had walked off the elevator into the anteroom of the Synthetic Insight offices with a hard scowl on her dour face, one hand planted on her hip, the other wrapped around the hilt of her holstered pistol.

Wrex, oh _Wrex,_ Tali had been _positive_ the krogan was going to get them all thrown in lockup. Ever since the incident in the docking bay he’d been ready to break something, and ryncol mixed with Stirling’s unbearable smirk had nearly been his undoing.

“Don’t break off more than you can chew, krogan,” she had said.

“You’re not even enough for a mouthful, human.”

The combined strength of Tali and Garrus hanging on his arms like deadweight had _barely_ been enough to prevent him from getting his hands around her neck.

There was no way they should have been able to get out of that one. Tali had already been picturing the storm clouds on Shepard’s face when he learned half his ground team had been arrested, when Garrus had come to the rescue, with _credits_ of all things. Right then and there on his omnitool he wired a sum that nearly made Tali gag from his own personal accounts on the Citadel into hers. Garrus, who spurned C-Sec out of a desire for what her father called vigilante justice, had paid off a cop to keep them out of trouble.

She wanted to both slap him and kiss him on the mandible. Even if it meant taking off her faceplate.

The problem was, there was no way to know if Stirling would keep her word and let the matter lie. Especially if Tali was going right back to the scene of the crime, with no better credentials than a Spectre’s orders. Spectre’s orders were fine and great when the Spectre was _standing_ there. But Shepard was gone.

If Stirling was corrupt enough to take bribe money, she was corrupt enough to shoot someone first and ask questions later.

_You get yourself into some impressive messes, Tali’Zorah._  

The chief folded her arms across her chest, clearly in agreement. “Tell me what happened.”

“Qu’iin has evidence that proves Administrator Anoleis is corrupt,” Tali explained. “But the Administrator found out and accused _him_ of corruption, then revoked access to his office. He wanted us to try and break in to steal evidence he had that would clear his name before Anoleis pays someone off to find it and destroy it.” She stopped rambling to take a breath. When she said it out loud, it sounded like something straight out of Fleet and Flotilla.

Williams tapped a long finger on her forearm.  “Yeah…that evidence he’s referring to apparently proves the Administrator has been taking bribes.”

“Oh.” Tali shifted her feet, attention drawn to the neat, concise arc of the chief’s eyebrow. Human eyebrows did some of the most amazing things. “Um. Well, we went to his office to see if we could get past the seals without alerting security. But that… _awful_ woman from the docking bay confronted us before we could actually get in.”

The arc in William’s eyebrows took an abrupt dive, forming a pair of twin daggers. A predatory glint entered her eyes. “Kaira Stirling, you mean?”

The incident in the docking bay was quickly earning legendary status. That wasn’t good news for Stirling.

“Yes.”

 “That bitch is really starting to get on my nerves,” Williams muttered.

Tali nodded. “Wrex almost, um. Well, let’s not talk about what Wrex almost did and just be thankful he didn’t.”Tali waited for Williams to ask how they’d managed to avoid a confrontation with the ill-tempered sergeant, breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t. “The good news is I _did_ upload a virus that should disable the security protocols once it’s activated. I doubt anyone’s detected it yet.” A small flush of pride ran through her, but Williams did not seem impressed. 

“Well, that’s something anyway. Let’s talk to Qu’iin, see what he’s got to say.”

~

The former turian manager of Synthetic Insights was astonishingly polite, especially for someone whose career had just been scrubbed by dirty politics. They found him lounging on a bench in the middle of the mezzanine, watching people pass with the air of someone who had little else to do. He had white clan markings and wore a smart looking suit that probably cost more than one of the Fleet’s patrol drones.

“Ah, my new quarian friend,” he said with a pleasant flange in his vocals. “Do you have good news for me?”

Tali drew in a breath, glancing swiftly at Williams. If Qu’iin hadn’t heard anything, that meant at least for now Stirling had kept her mouth shut. “We…ran into a problem with Sergeant Stirling.”

Qu’iin’s mandible flicked. “Of course. That woman is…vexing.”

“Tell me about it,” Williams said.

“I don’t think I know you, human.”

“She’s a member of Commander Shepard’s crew,” Tali explained. “She’s here to, um.” She thought for a moment. What _was_ Williams doing here, precisely? Why had Shepard sent her, instead of someone like Alenko? Williams didn’t exactly have personality traits that lent themselves to subterfuge. In fact, now that she thought about it, Tali was fairly certain Shepard had left the two _least_ qualified people behind to handle Gianna Parisini’s problem. Oh sure, Tali had some useful expertise to offer. But Garrus and Alenko were both seasoned officers with enough tech knowledge to get the job done.

So why them?

“She’s here to assist,” Tali said finally.

Williams nodded, uncertainty flicking across her brow, as though she’d been confronted by the same train of thought. “Can you tell me exactly what it is we’re looking for?”

The turian regarded the gunnery chief with a critical eye. “If an Alliance officer is now involved I’m going to assume that your interest in my little problem is not strictly courtesy, or even mercenary.”

Now it was the chief’s turn to flick her eyes towards Tali, working her jaw and taking a moment before offering a reply. She opened her mouth, pressed her lips together into a thin line, then exhaled and sat down next to Qu’iin, much to everyone’s surprise.

“Okay look, let me level with you.”

“By all means,” the turian replied.

“There’s a certain insider in the Administrator’s office who wants to take down that smug salarian bastard. She gave Commander Shepard a way out of Port Hanshan this morning if we could help her do it. Whatever it is you’ve got stashed in your office she wants, and I got left here to get it. Problem is I’m a soldier, not a businesswoman, so this whole ‘dancing around the truth’ game that all of you corporate types like to play is a little over my head. Rather than play a game I’m not good at, let’s play one that I am. Tell me what you need me to do to get this accomplished and I’ll take care of it.”

Tali held her breath. Had it been her, she would have hemmed and hawed and tried to temper her words with the least offense rhetoric she could scrounge.

Qu’iin tilted his head, curiosity and maybe even some amusement playing across his facial plates. “I see the human Spectre chooses interesting companions. It’s not often I come across someone so…frank.”

“Thank you. I’m usually labeled as a ‘pain in the ass’ rather than just ‘frank,’ so I’ll take that as a compliment. So what do you say?”

A thrum rippled through his subharmonics. “I have to admit that assisting your…benefactor…is not exactly what I had in mind. The files in my office are _mine_. I am not particularly interested in putting them in someone else’s hands and creating a public spectacle. My future is the one at stake. I am not a gambling man.”

“Then why the hell are you doing business on Noveria?”

He blinked. So did Tali. And then to her astonishment realized she was _speaking._ “The board wants to take him down,” she said. “You want your job back. Just think about it! If you’re responsible for the takedown of a corporate crook you’ll be a hero. Cooperating is a win-win for everyone!”

Williams flashed her a grateful look, then nodded firmly at Qu’iin. “You’ll be employee of the month. Or whatever term you executives prefer.”

Qui’in tilted his head. “You know, Ms…”

“Williams.”

“Williams. Yes. You may actually be a better politician than you thought.”

“God help us all.”

His mandible flared. “I tend not to involve deities in my personal affairs, but to each their own.  Ms. Zorah. Do you still have the encryption key I gave you?”

Tali nodded, hand automatically drifting to the OSD in her pocket.

“I can’t promise Sergeant Stirling won’t waylay you again. She’s most tenacious, and I believe her career prospects have improved rather remarkably since Anoleis arrived in Port Hanshan.”

“What an interesting coincidence,” Williams said.

“Indeed. Force may be a regrettable necessity.”

Williams’ hand hung near the holster where she kept her pistol. “Believe me, there’s nothing regrettable about pulling a gun on a dirty cop.”

“Well then, Chief Williams. I look forward to doing business with you. Try to keep the blood off the carpets if you don’t mind.”

~

Tali bent over the door lock to Synthetic Insight’s main office while Williams watched for signs of security, praying that in her state of inebriation last night she hadn’t botched any of the code. Decryption keys were her specialty. Each bypass sent a little thrill of victory running down her spine. When she and Jaxa had been on their reign of terror on the _Rayya_ , uploading hacks to infiltrate and affect some of the low-level systems, each successful keystroke ended with a secret hand gesture copied from _Agents of Rannoch_ , a vid they both watched about a spy trying to infiltrate the homeland in hopes of taking down the geth.

There had been a lot of successful keystrokes. Of course, the stakes had been a lot lower. Sure, they landed themselves in a lot of trouble, but no harm _actually_ came from reprogramming the atrium irrigation systems to come on during visitor hours. Breaking into the offices of a very powerful galaxy-spanning corporation was a _little_ different.

She just wished that thought had occurred to her last night.

Tali sighed. “You don’t really think that ERCS will…shoot us for doing this, do you?”

Williams glanced back at her, hand on the hilt of her pistol. “If they’re taking money from Anoelis they aren’t ERCS. They’re mercenaries. And in my experience, mercenaries are assholes.”

“Wrex isn’t so bad,” Tali pointed out.

“Wrex is…special.”

“That is one way to put it.”

Tali wondered what she would say if she confessed what Garrus had done. He hadn’t said one word about it, and Wrex hadn’t seemed the slightest bit bothered, but the uncomfortable look that had passed across the turian’s features on their way back to the plaza was such that Tali would take the incident to her grave.

“Not to rush you, but…how’s that door coming?”

“I just need one more…there. Got it.”

The door lock turned green, and the seals opened with a hiss. Tali braced herself for the sound of alarms, but none came. Well. It wasn’t as exciting as a secret handshake and Jaxa’s delighted snicker at a job well done, but they hadn’t been shot at, so she’d take it.

Williams narrowed her eyes. “So you meant to tell me you disabled the security system of one of the largest corporations in the galaxy, drunk, with nothing but an omnitool?”

Tali shrugged, waving her arm, the golden sleeve of her omnitool shimmering. “It’s a custom rig.”

“ _I’ll_ say.” The chief’s forehead wrinkled for a moment. “Look, I value my pride a little too much to ask Alenko, but you don’t take sadistic pleasure in people asking you for help.”

Tali tilted her head, trying to imagine the easygoing lieutenant doing something insidious and suppressed a giggle. “I didn’t realize Alenko was…sadistic.”

Williams grimaced. “Ok, that might actually just be me. And it may stem mostly from the geranium comment. But all that aside…do you think you could give me a few tips on some decryption basics? I mean, I know that it’s kind of like a squirrel asking Einstein to teach her physics, but…”

The look on Williams’ face was so anxious and mortified Tali almost laughed, a shiver of glee running through her. Since joining the _Normandy_ , Engineer Adams had pestered her constantly for input on the engines. Alenko had asked her for tips on tech mine programming. Garrus had sought out her opinion on weapon systems calibrations. _Shepard_ had relied on her for geth analysis. But somehow, Ashley Williams asking for her help with basic decryption algorithms made her feel prouder than any of that.

“Of course!  It would be my pleasure.”

Williams grinned. _Grinned_. Tali almost forgot how precarious their situation was.

She followed the gunnery chief inside with the weight of her shotgun conspicuous against the small of her back. The Synthetic Insights offices were spacious, with the same drab décor found in the plaza (did _anyone_ in Port Hanshan aspire to anything other than gray stone and bland furnishings?) and only narrow slits in the thick walls that let in glimmers of light from the raging gale outside. Their footsteps echoed on the bare floors, scanners clear of lifesigns other than their own transponders.

“I don’t like this,” Williams said flatly.

“Me either.”

“Let’s get Qu’iin’s files and get out of here.”

The turian’s office was up a flight of stairs to the second level, off to itself down a long, private corridor. Datapads lay strewn about the floor, the drawers of the desk hung askew and the computer terminals had been smashed into glittering shards that littered the floor.

“Uh oh,” Williams said.

Tali held up her omnitool. “Not to worry, Chief. Qu’iin is no slouch.” She walked over to a holographic painting on the wall, a scabby, dry looking landscape that might have been somewhere on Palaven, and felt around the edges of the frame until she found a catch. The painting shimmered and disappeared, revealing a backup terminal on the wall behind it.  

“Clever,” Williams said.

“Too clever for Stirling at least.”

The chief snorted.

Tali inserted an OSD into the drive and watched the terminal flicker to life as Qu’iin’s program auto-executed and initiated a download. “I just need a few minutes to retrieve the data and wipe the local copy. Then we can get out of here.”

Williams made a face. “And go back to sitting on our asses while Shepard saves us from an evil.”

So Tali _wasn’t_ the only one disappointed, even resentful, of being left behind.

“Why…do you think he chose us?”

“I have no idea,” the human said with a frustrated sigh. “Alenko thought something was up with him last night. I was a little too, uh, distracted, to wonder why.”

Tali took in the awkward shift of the chief’s hips, the flustered look on her face, and refrained from pressing the matter further. “Almost ready.”

Her combat scanner pinged with a foreign transponder signal. Make that several. “Uh oh,” she muttered.

Williams went immediately for the door, swiftly drawing her pistol and disengaging the safety mechanism. Her long, fluid stride came to an abrupt halt, the pistol snapping to attention.

As Tali flipped the OSD out of the drive and into her pocket she heard the familiar ground gravel sound of Stirling’s voice “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“Sightseeing,” Williams replied, tone frigid.

Tali crept to the wall, putting her back to it and inching closer to the gunnery chief, a sabotage mine gripped in her palm. Very slowly, she inched her way towards the door.

“Who’s with you?” Stirling demanded. “A two bit jock like you couldn’t have hacked through that security system.”

Williams’ grip tightened on her gun. “Jock? At least I’m not moonlighting as a two-bit merc cleaning up someone else’s shit.”

Tali heard the blonde sergeant cackle. “I’m sorry. Isn’t that _exactly_ what you’re doing?”

“At least we do it more effectively,” Tali muttered.  

“You’re trespassing on corporate property on behalf of an accused criminal, carrying an illegal firearm without your precious Spectre to protect you. What do you think is going to happen here?”

Tali reached the side door and crouched low to remain unseen. Williams only acknowledgement coming in the form of a subtle half step to the right to allow her better access. “I think Noveria’s going to be down a few crooked cops, that’s what I think.”

“Let’s see if you can walk the way you talk after I break your legs.”

The first shot buried itself in William’s shields with a sharp blue ripple at the same time Tali sent the sabotage mine skidding across the floor under Stirling’s feet. Williams leapt backwards to avoid the splash damage, swinging into cover inside the door.

The grenade detonated with a bang, followed by the telltale sound of an overheat klaxon and a dismayed shriek from Stirling and the three lackeys she’d brought with her.  Williams answered with her pistol, firing with measured precision at their shield emitters while their weapons cooled. Tali palmed an overload grenade and cocked her arm for the throw.

The air around her distorted, gravity surging as a wave of blue energy bowled her over and sent her flying into Qu’iin’s desk, where she collided hard against the metal with a gasp.  

_Keelah, she’s biotic!_

A lance of pain ran up and down her spine. The overload mine skipped out of her hand, spinning like a top near Williams’ feet.

“Look out!” Tali cried.

Williams spotted the grenade and kicked it, hard, sending it airborne right into Stirling’s chest. It exploded, raining sparks that sizzled against the white glow of her biotic barrier, air filling with the sharp stench of ozone. Stirling stumbled, reeled, flinging her weapon up as the heat sinks recovered enough to unlock the firing mechanism.

The gunnery chief was ready. She closed the gap between them with wicked speed, striking the biotic in the solar plexus. Stirling doubled over with a grunt. Williams clamped her hands around the woman’s head and drove her forehead into her knee, smiling with grim satisfaction as Stirling crumpled to the ground with a moan.

Tali struggled back up off the floor, sucking down gulps of air and reaching feebly for her grenade pouch. Two of the ERCS guards left standing had honed in on Williams. The first recoiled as a slug from Williams’ pistol struck her in the chest, another sprouting a geyser of blood from her neck. Another sabotage mine neutralized the second long enough for Tali to draw her shotgun. Williams hopped out of the way as she fired once, then twice for good measure.

With a satisfied grunt Williams stowed the pistol and turned. “Tali, you ok?”

“Yes,” she croaked, lowering the shotgun and sagging with relief.

Stirling gasped, one hand clawing at the floor, a well of dark energy welling in her palm. “You…cop…killing… _bitch!”_

Williams’ hand went back for her pistol so fast Tali hardly saw it. The crack echoed off stone, followed by the sound of Stirling’s head hitting the ground.

 “Pretty sure that gunfire is going to register with _someone_ ,” Williams said between breaths. “And we’re standing here with four dead cops at our feet. We need to get the hell out of here.”

Below them on the main level came the echo of shouts and running feet.

“Might be too late for that,” Tali said with a wheeze.

Williams gripped her shoulder a little tighter. “ _Shit.”_

Tali couldn’t have agreed more.

 

 


	30. Ferus

Morag. Kredak. Rokoribad. Urthang. Wrex recited the old names over and over in his mind. Names worthy of song, remnants of glory days, but now chanted zealously by fools who could never aspire to better. How ironic that at the time the krogan believed they faced the start of a new era, their nadir had actually already passed. Their great empire had already begun its descent into dust, a road lined with millions of stillborn corpses.

Wrex stood alone among the krogan in his understanding that the genophage proved his people needed more than a singular purpose, but forcing that understanding onto his fellow krogan had left him betrayed, bleeding and bereft of allies. To survive they needed to breed, not conquer. They needed to look to their own past and learn how to engineer it to achieve a future. Krogan may have loved their warlike ways, but now with the genophage that mindset would kill them. It was time to change.

No one else agreed. At least it had cured him of his delusions that the krogan could still reclaim a shred of their former greatness.

The rachni had served as both their greatest victory and their most grievous defeat. Finding them here on Noveria set centuries of pent up blood rage boiling under Wrex’s skin. He would not leave until they were dead. If he could not restore the dignity of his own people, he could at least slay the remnants of their truest enemy.

The Alenko-human walked ahead of him, head bent to his omnitool, shoulders hunched against the cold of the uninsulated corridor. Here he had the chance to do battle with the greatest foe his people had ever faced, and Shepard had sent his whelp along for assistance. He would have rather had the turian.

“There’s an elevator at the end of this hallway,” the human said. “Should take us to the roof.”

Wrex grunted his acknowledgement. “What do you know about the rachni?” he asked once they reached it.

“Not much,” the human admitted without looking back over his shoulder. “By the time humans came on the scene they were nothing more than a history lesson, really.”

“I’ll bet,” Wrex muttered.

“So what can you tell me about them?”

Wrex’s lip curled. “The scientists who believed the cold would kill their mistake deserve what they got.”

Alenko’s shoulders flinched a little, but the expected blather about justice and guilt never came.

“There was a reason the turians and salarians couldn’t handle them on their own,” Wrex went on. “The rachni had them by the quad. They work as hive minds. Stopping the rachni isn’t about killing soldiers or winning tactical battles. It’s about destroying the nest and killing the queens.”

The elevator arrived, sliding open with minimal reluctance. “So why couldn’t they? Kill the queens, I mean?”

Wrex waited until they began their ascent to the roof. Alenko rolled his shoulders and made a quick adjustment to his helmet. The two of them kept as much distance between them as the small space would allow.

“Know anything about Suen?” Wrex asked.

“Suen? Um, no.”

“It’s their homeworld. Tidal locked to a red dwarf. Half the planet is a scorched ruin, the other half a frozen wasteland. It makes Tuchanka look like a tropical paradise, and to the rachni it’s homey.” A grin pulled at his scaly lips. “Ever seen what that much radiation does to a turian? And they have exoskeletons. Imagine what it did to the salarians. To the asari. Or what it would do to you.”

Alenko studied the elevator’s control panel. Wrex laughed.

“We went where they couldn’t go. Planted underground explosives so powerful we collapsed entire colonies into sinkholes. And even at the bitter end, the rachni refused to submit. So we wiped them out.”

“You sound like you admire them,” Alenko said.

“They were a worthy foe.”

The elevator door creaked open, depositing them into a short corridor that lead to the roof access door. Alenko’s hand went to the holster on his hip as they reached it, chest expanding as he took in a quick breath. Wrex drew his shotgun, barrier sweeping over his giant frame with a brilliant white flare. Every muscle coiled tight, ready to spring.

A blast of frigid air greeted them with an angry howl. Tall, opaque barriers surrounding the roof fenced out the dizzying drop to the surface below. Communication satellites, backup servers and power grids populated the unhospitable space, in some places nearly buried by snow drifts.

“I don’t see anything on the scanner,” Alenko said.

Wrex peered into the squalling storm, listening past the patter and whistle of snow for something more deadly. The fresh snow obscured nearly all other scents, wiping the air clean.

“They’re here,” he muttered. “If they were looking for a way out they’d find it just like we did. You think a little cold and elevation is going to bother them?”

“Not after listening to you,” Alenko said with a reluctant sigh.

A piercing keen sliced through the driving wind, confirming Wrex’s guess.

“Right,” Alenko said, wrapping his fingers around his pistol grip. “And naturally, the landlines are at the far end of the roof.”

“Go,” Wrex rumbled, feeling a thrill of excitement right down to his tailbone. “I’ll cover you.”

The rachni scuttled out of the dark like locusts on spindle legs, accompanied by hissing and screeching that reverberated right through to the marrow of his bones. Alenko jagged right behind a comm satellite, seeking for a path with less resistance to his destination. Wrex, however, bellowed in greeting, arms spread wide in welcome, red glaze drifting across his vision like a mist of blood.

_I am Rokoribad setting foot on Suen for the first time, grinning at the boiling rocks and blazing sun, shouting, ‘Your foe has arrived to bring death to your house. Remember this as the first of your last days!’_

The rachni, at least a dozen of them by his count, closed in, snow churning about their legs and tentacles whipping madly about their heads.

Dark energy swirled about Wrex’s body, a writhing corona that lit up the roof with cold, blue fire. He hurled the field before him, felt the sizzle of rapidly shifting mass effect fields strike his target with a vicious hum. One of the rachni squealed, stumbling in its tracks, and Wrex leapt for it, the gauntleted hilts of his fingers spread wide.  

A shriek of pain followed the splinter of chitin under his grip. Wrex gripped a flailing tentacle and turned the hardened barbs, jamming it into another body trying to scramble over its wounded brethren. His shotgun pumped once, twice, sending sprays of green ichor into the tempest of flakes. One body fell at his feet. Letting the shotgun clatter to the ground he seized the rachni in both hands, snarled, and heaved, the carcass striking two more of the creatures as they fought for purchase against the maddened krogan.

A guttural laugh ripped from his throat. Another rachni leapt at him as two more came up from behind. Gobs of spit struck his armor with an acidic hiss. His barrier flared to life, the white shimmer reflecting snow in a painful crystallization of sudden glaring light. Scooping his shotgun off the ground, he drove the barrel backwards into the underbelly of one of the creatures that had come up behind him, feeling the slather of its wavering maw near his ear. In the same movement he laid on the trigger, the weapon kicking hard in his hands as the tangle of legs in front of him vanished in a shatter of splintered exoskeleton. He turned, gun blaring, until the second rachni behind him shuddered and collapsed.

The swarm of bodies began to overlap, the legs of one bleeding into the abdomen of the next, melded together by the creak and click of exoskeleton. A whiplike tentacle ripped the gun from his hand.

His hardsuit alarm wailed in his ears. Their acidic saliva burned through his barriers and chewed through the ablative coating of his armor with an angry hiss. He swung wildly, forearm smashing up against the hooked curve of an exposed neck. A well of biotic energy swelled in his palm and exploded with a sharp crackle, flinging one of the beasts into a pillar.

He grappled for his shotgun, but one of the creatures kicked it out of his reach. A tentacle snapped towards him, seizing his arm with a barbed grapple. Wrex bellowed, reaching around with his other hand to snatch the offending appendage, but its strength was nearly as great as his own. He bent his shoulders and drove his crest into its chitinous hide. The claw released with a shudder and a dismayed squawk.

The air shifted around him, a foreign biotic field humming past his ears. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw a rachni several yards away on its back, legs kicking against a fading wisp of blue energy. Alenko rose from beside the landline control panel, pistol firing. Wrex turned his attention back to the creature in front of him, seizing its head and twisting sharply until its neck splintered.

A few slugs later the only sounds left on the roof was the persistent hiss of acid eating through the drifts, smoke from the rachni corpses wafting into the air where swirls of snow swept it away.

“You all right?” Alenko asked, breathing a sigh of relief.

Wrex brushed a coagulate of rachni spit off his armor and jabbed his fist in the snow to wipe it clean. Holes pocked the ruined ablative coating over his arm where the substance had eaten past the kinetic padding. He could feel the sharp sting on his skin.

“Fine,” he muttered.

Alenko dug in a pocket of his hardsuit and produced a dose of medigel, which he offered to the krogan without comment. Wrex snatched it and slapped it over the affected area, grumbling. “Did you reboot the landlines?”

The lieutenant nodded. “We’re good to go here. Hopefully Shepard had the same kind of luck with the reactor. Without the insect horde at his back.” He paused, then cocked his head. “Wrex, that was…impressive. One krogan verses a dozen rachni…” His eyes drifted across the pile of corpses. “The rachni never stood a chance.”

In spite of himself his flesh rippled with pride.

They trudged back towards the elevator, shutting out the gale behind them with a swish of hydraulics. They said nothing as the elevator began its retreat back to the level of the VI core, though Wrex could feel the human’s scrutinizing gaze.

“What,” he said flatly.

Alenko hesitated. “Wrex, I know we don’t necessarily see eye to eye. But for what it’s worth, Shepard was right to bring you along.”

Wrex grunted. “I don’t need affirmation from you.”

“Right, fine,” he said with a roll of his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry for trying to be civil.”

“You apologize too much, Alenko,” Wrex informed him. “That’s part of your problem.”

“And what’s the rest of it?” he asked, leaning against the wall.

Wrex tilted his head to fix him with his right eye. “You’re skilled. But you let discipline override your instincts. You’re a warrior by training, but not by heart.”

“I have to be careful,” Alenko shot back. “You’ve had a few centuries to figure out biotics. This is still a little new to us. I’m not going to hurt innocent people out of a little carelessness. Sorry if that conflicts with your personal ethos.”

Wrex’s lips opened in s sneer. “Let me ask you something, Alenko. Who would win in a fight between you and Shepard?”

The lieutenant straightened, unfolding his arms so they hung rigidly at his sides. “I would never fight Shepard. He’s my superior officer.”

Wrex nodded, unsurprised. “That’s why he’s your superior officer. And that’s why Shepard would win.”

“And you think that’s my problem. That I don’t spend time fabricating imaginary scenarios in which I take down my commanding officer.”

“I guarantee you Williams has thought about it.”

That stopped him cold. His expression turned wooden, eyes turning away from Wrex and towards the door. Wrex could smell his frustration, watched his hands flex and clench, invoking the slightest shiver of dark energy. Seeing it filled him with satisfaction. Somewhere under all of that methodical control sat an untapped well of anger. How deep and how potent remained to be seen. Wrex had a feeling they would find out before the end.  

Morag. Kredak. Rokoribad. Urthang.

Alenko was a far cry from the warlords whose names were carved in the Hallows. But perhaps there was hope for him yet.

~

Garrus had just about _had_ it with rachni popping out from under his feet. He poured bullets into the most recent infestation, mandible clicking, while Shepard complained about clogged fuel lines.

The Peak 15 reactor core was located in a large, shielded room off the VI core housing spanning multiple levels. Control rooms on two floors provided mainframe access, but the helium-3 fuel lines were only approachable from inside the core itself. Two exits on either side of the lower control room lead to narrow catwalks bordering the core on each side, with switchbacks up to the second level. On the north side of the housing the catwalks bridged inward to the reactor itself. A distracting amount of open space surrounded them above and below the ramps, despite the tall handrails. Plenty of opportunity for a flailing turian to perform a spectacular nosedive.

Liara and Garrus had taken up sentry posts on either side of the bisected path to keep watch while Shepard repaired the fuel lines. It hadn’t taken long to discover the rachni were investigating the core too, only rather than use the designated walkways like civilized species, the crustaceous bastards had taken to crawling about the reactor housing like spiders, leeching their way onto the ramps in horribly unexpected places from both below _and_ above.

He heard Liara cry out and looked to his left, where a lone rachni now dangled in midair, suspended by a shimmering vortex of biotic energy. As he turned back to the stragglers still advancing towards them from the opposite direction he heard the repeated crack of her pistol.

A sharp whine preceded a sudden flood of incandescence as the reactor finally kicked on, dumping power back into the main lights.  An antennae spasmed near Garrus’ foot; he responded with a hefty kick to the creature’s carapace. It whiffled a strangled caw that almost, _almost_ inspired pity. A quick shove fixed that as he sent the corpse tumbling into the abyss below their feet.

“I have to say, I’m _really_ glad I missed this period of turian history. Geth may have pulse rifles, but at least they don’t spit.” His subharmonics resonated with distaste.

Shepard appeared from the catwalk leading back to the reactor, wiping the grease off on his thighs, where it left a filmy residue over the Titan’s white mottling. “Didn’t mean to get your hands dirty, Garrus.”

Garrus chuckled. “Look, bullet wounds, contusions…I hear women dig those sorts of war stories. But spit? No one’s impressed by spit.”

“Not even acid spit?”

“It’s terrible for my complexion.”

Liara offered a tiny smile, the first one he’d seen since the _Normandy_ had reached the Pax system.

“Now that the power’s back on, maybe we can get somewhere,” Shepard declared. “Any word from Alenko and Wrex?”

“Not yet,” Liara replied.

“I don’t suppose anyone is concerned that by turning the power back on we’ve just made it easier for our new friends to get their tentacles wound up in things,” Garrus said.

Shepard grinned. “Tentacles aren’t your kink, huh? So if given the chance I shouldn’t hook you up with a hanar?”

Garrus tilted his head. “I suppose you’re not supposed to knock it ‘til you’ve tried it, but I’ll pass if that’s all the same to you.”

“ _Alenko to Shepard.”_

“Gotcha, LT. Everything okay up there?”

“ _Yeah. Landlines have been reset. On our way back.”_

Shepard nodded in satisfaction. “Catch any heat?”

_“Oh, you could say that. Wrex enjoyed himself, at least.”_

A smirk crossed Shepard’s features, and there was a glint in his eye that hadn’t been there in Port Hanshan. As they made their way back to the VI core there was almost a spring to his step, as though facing monsters back from the dead had temporarily erased some of the impending unpleasantness of the task at hand.  

Geth. Thorians. Rachni. Perhaps Garrus needed to go through council databases and see what other extinct, vanished life forms they might stumble onto next, get a checklist going. He would almost be disappointed if all they found at Rift Station was a few asari commandos. It seemed awfully tame by comparison.

If Garrus hadn’t left C-Sec he would probably be sitting in his office right now, filing investigation reports that politicians would bury in bureaucracy, reducing hours of painstaking work to junk data locked in inactive databases.

From glorified pencil pusher to wading through the most sordid monstrosities the galaxy had to throw at them. There just wasn’t a happy medium for things, was there?  

Wrex and Alenko had already returned to Mira’s terminal by the time they got there. The krogan sported a field patch on his arm, red eyes bright with same eager glimmer as their commander. Droplets of melting snow dripped off his armor plates, each hitting the metallic floor with an audible rap. Alenko looked none the worse for wear aside from a look of mild consternation that was a common side effect of krogan social interactions. Only Shepard seemed immune to the surly krogan’s penchant for isolating your flaws and pointing them at you like a spear.

“Nice work,” Shepard acknowledged. “What about the trams?”

“Should be up and running if the power’s back on,” Alenko said with a shrug.

Shepard acknowledged the VI terminal. “Mira. Is the route clear to Rift Station?”

The VI’s holographic avatar sprang to life. “Tramway access is locked down. Contaminants present in decontamination chamber.”

“I suppose a contaminated decontamination chamber does seem counterproductive,” Garrus mused.

“Well,” Shepard said. “Guess we have to go do some manual decontamination.”

Wrex drew his shotgun. Garrus sighed.

~

The decontamination chamber that lead to the tramway was indeed home to a few…contaminants. Garrus eyed the half dozen rachni pawing at the glass as Shepard and Alenko probed the control panel in the adjacent monitoring station. Behind them, Liara knelt beside the corpse of a salarian wearing a Binary Helix uniform. Dollops of fetid, half-desiccated brain matter coated the wall to the left of the body, the hand holding the gun folded almost neatly across his breast. Beside him on an OCD a recording played, a tinny voice pleading for forgiveness and hope that sealing the tram tunnels would keep the rachni from spreading.

“It didn’t,” Garrus said, eyeing the scrabbling appendages mere centimeters away.

“Garrus,” Alenko said, examining one of the computer terminals. “I think we can create a plasma purge. Kill the, uh, rachni without opening the door. Take a look.”

Garrus peered over his shoulder, scanning the readouts he’d called up. “That’s an old turian code,” he observed. “They must have contracted security out to ERCS.”

His subvocals hummed. “Well, someone should tell them to upgrade. But yeah. I think we can rig those panels and vent the plasma right back into the chamber. Incinerate the bastards.”

“Do it,” Shepard said with a brusque nod.

Liara gazed at the rachni scraping the glass with the sharp tips of their legs, wavering tentacles and ridges of curved exoskeleton gleaming scarlet under the bright glare of the light panels. “They’re sentient beings trapped in a cage,” she said in a nearly inaudible voice that was strong enough to silence the room. “Are we really going to put them down like animals?”

Garrus flicked a mandible and glanced at Shepard. Alenko’s hands paused over the control panel. Wrex angled his head to fix the commander with the glow of his left eye.

Shepard worked his jaw, eyes never leaving the rachni in the chamber. If he was aware he now had the attention of everyone in the room he gave no sign.

“Yes,” he said after a thick silence. When he turned back to them a crease had settled into his brow that hadn’t been there before.

Alenko’s eyes darted to Garrus, who pulled his mandibles in tight to his jaw. None of them looked at Liara.

“Garrus, this program uses runtime generics I’m not familiar with,” Alenko ventured, breaking the silence.

“Oh,” Garrus said, relief echoing through his subvocals. “Here. You can subvert the TMP protocol by manually instantiating your own code.” He gestured toward the panel, which Alenko relinquished with a sweep of his hand.

The turian scanned the code, poking past the cobwebs in his brain. It had been a long time since he’d decrypted this particular breed of TMP. A company that didn’t spare resources to upgrade alien programming language on its containment software clearly belonged on Noveria.

“There,” he said, deliberately averting his eyes from the chamber.

“Get it over with,” Shepard said.

Liara turned her head like she’d been struck. For half a breath both Garrus and Alenko hesitated, neither sure who should take responsibility for activating the plasma vents, but Garrus recovered first.

A shrill wail like talons on glass preceded the white-hot glow of the paneling inside the decontamination chamber. The outlines of their crustaceous bodies flared like kindling catching a light, before one last agonized shriek blew apart in an eruption of noxious ash. Garrus glanced up to see Shepard’s stare boring a hole through the glass, hands stiff at his sides.

A green light blinked on the panel in front of him. Garrus cleared his throat with a thrum. “We’re clear.”

“Let’s go,” Shepard said, not waiting for acknowledgement before pushing past Alenko to the door.

Garrus held his breath as they entered the decontamination tunnel, but the putrid stench of burned flesh and chitin filled his nostrils anyway. _They were monsters_ , he reassured himself.

Not far removed from officer’s training, Garrus had served under Captain Nallis on the _Kruixin_ , a frigate on patrol near the Terminus Systems. They’d chased a crew of mercenaries into the Armstrong Nebula, where they’d gone to ground on Ontarom. Garrus had been on the ground team that cornered them inside an old mining tunnel, where Nallis had ordered them to lace the entrance with incendiaries and seal it off. Once they’d detonated it they didn’t stick around to check out the mess afterward, but survivors would have been impossible.

It hadn’t bothered him then, much like this didn’t particularly trouble him now. They were casualties of war, and there would be a lot more moments like this before the job was done.

But that _smell._ It would be a long time before Garrus forgot about the smell.


	31. Latebra

Arriving at a destination to find guns pointed at your head had quickly become standard fare when serving with Shepard. So Garrus hardly blinked at the sight of nearly a dozen armed ERCS guards waiting for them when they finally found their way to Rift Station’s main level. Elevator access to all other levels had been locked down, funneling them into a security checkpoint cordoned off by a barricade of overturned desks, shelving and whatever metal they could find. Judging by the rachni corpses piled outside the door, they had fashioned themselves a rather effective kill zone.

The survivors were fewer than Garrus hoped, but more than he expected. ERCS usually outfitted their people well and these were no exceptions, but the extensive scouring on their weapon casings and the abundance of hastily manufactured suit patches indicated they’d done more than a few rounds with the fuzzy little supposed-to-be-extinct aliens now running amuck.

A human named Captain Ventralis claimed to be in charge. He was a pragmatic but tired looking human, shorter than Shepard with dark skin and no fringe to speak of. He and his men all displayed the same red-eyed, skin-twitching side effects of too much stim use, and according to Garrus’ visor their sustained heart rates were running much higher than normal. The only difference between these people and the ones on Feros were better guns and imprisonment under the ground instead of up in the sky.

At least they could tell four legged creatures from two. When you’d been running on nothing but stims for a few days that wasn’t exactly a given. 

“Matriarch Benezia is here,” Ventralis confirmed, once the rifles had been lowered.

 Shepard’s expression darkened. “I need to speak with her right away.”

“Are you with the Board?”

“No,” Shepard replied, and Garrus suppressed a groan. Shepard was a great commander but a terrible politician. If C-Sec had taught him anything, it was that when dealing with corporate espionage, you always, _always_ played along.

Ventralis’ eyes narrowed. “Then who are you?”

Beside him, Wrex shuffled his feet just enough to make his presence known. Ventralis’ eyes darted quickly to the krogan, widening a little and losing a little of their bleariness. Garrus couldn’t see a hint of satisfaction on Shepard’s face, but he knew it was there. 

“Council Spectre. As we speak the Binary Helix executives back at Port Hanshan have their finger on the launch button of an antimatter warhead. If you don’t want them to push it you need to help me.”

Garrus had to give him credit for that one. Nothing like the threat of instant vaporization to inspire a little cooperation.

Ventralis licked his lips. “I guess I don’t blame them.”

“What happened here?” Shepard asked, looking around at the survivors. All ERCS guards, Garrus noted. No scientists.

“The aliens overran the hot labs a few days ago,” Ventralis replied. “Only Han Olar got out, and he ain’t all there anymore. Kept talking about queens and playing god. Next thing you know those bastards are clawing their way into my command post. We had more staff then.” He shuddered.

“You don’t even know what they are, do you?” Wrex asked, red eyes glinting.

“Not my business,” Ventralis replied with a scowl. “I’ve got two dozen scientists down in the barracks wondering if they’ll ever see their families again. That’s all I care about right now.”

Shepard nodded, expression carefully blank. “We’ve restored power to Peak 15. You can start getting your people out on the tram.”

“Not with all those things crawling around the hot labs,” Ventralis insisted. “They’re in the vents. You’re lucky you didn’t walk into an ambush. Whatever they are, they’re damn smart.”

Shepard silently worked his jaw and slid his gaze over to Garrus. Garrus didn’t like that look. Whatever Shepard had in mind, he was pretty sure it would be hazardous for turians.

“If you take me to Benezia, we will clear the…contaminants out of the hot labs.”

Now it was Ventralis’ turn to eye his men. Garrus didn’t like what he saw _there_ , either. You didn’t trust people who were desperate, and you didn’t get more desperate than these men. He glanced back at Shepard to see if the human commander had noticed it too, but his face was inscrutable as always.

“She went to the secure labs shortly after the outbreak,” Ventralis told them, “but no one has seen her since. It’s restricted to top Binary Helix executives. Even I don’t have access.”

“Then find me someone who does,” Shepard replied.

Ventralis sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Talk to Han Olar, the volus. If you can get him to say anything, he can probably help you get in.”

~     

The floor dampeners creaked under Garrus’ talons as he followed Shepard into Rift Station’s dimly lit barracks. Down here the climate controls were barely functioning, allowing the cold of the glacier to creep in slowly but steadily. For the twenty or so people imprisoned within in the sterile, monotonous grey walls, death looked like it would be a welcome distraction. Despair hung over them like a slowly tightening noose. At least on Feros it had been warm.

The surviving scientists included an asari, a few turians and even an _elcor._ For the life of him Garrus couldn’t even figure out how the mammoth-like creature had even fit inside one of the elevators. It stood in the center of the room, periodically shifting its weight from one massive foot to the other, gills of its broad face occasionally managing a near-lifeless flutter. Even its droning monotone, characteristic of the species, seemed depressed.  

The only creature present that didn’t appear overcome by an impending sense of doom was the asari, who observed them from a corner with a wary, attentive gaze. Unlike the others, who glanced at Shepard with flashes of hope, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. Garrus kept her in his periphery.

Some of the scientists slept in cots, others offered empty reassurance to one another. A few sat against the wall with their head in their hands. But a lone volus simply existed, standing motionless off to the side like a machine that had been turned off.  His rotund body stood about as tall as Garrus’ hips, mechanized yellow eyes gleaming like twin halos in the dim light. The hiss and sigh of his pressure suit sounded even more labored than the usual volus, though it did not appear damaged. Garrus knew nothing about their ammonia-based physiology; for all he knew, under the knobs and tubes of their shapeless suits were just more knobs and tubes.  

As Shepard approached, Olar’s eye slots slicked shut in an approximation of a blink – an unnecessary function that all volus had nonetheless adopted. The glowing orbs weren’t his _real_ eyes after all, just a keyhole. The suit had no organic cornea to cleanse. And even if it did, whatever moisture it required could be supplied by artificial lubricant. But all volus ‘blinked’.

Olar waited until Shepard came to an expectant halt in front of him, then wheezed.

“You came to find out about them, didn’t you?”

The empty, vacant quality of his mechanically assisted voice set Garrus’ plates on edge. Even Shepard’s stoic countenance faltered for a moment. He crossed his arms across his chest. “Seems like you and I are the only ones here who know that the things murdering them are rachni.”

Olar slowly rotated his thick, squat neck in Wrex’s direction. His eyes flicked off and on in their needless repetition, followed by the suction and release of a suit valve. “I see three thousand years hasn’t dulled a krogan’s memory.”

Wrex growled deep in his throat. Shepard held up one hand. “How? And why? What does Benezia want with them?”

“We brought the rachni back from the dead,” Olar replied. “In retrospect…a bad decision.”

“Bad decision?” Alenko exclaimed. “Do you have any idea how many people are dead right now?”

“One hundred twenty nine,” Olar replied, with no trace of remorse. With no trace of _anything._ “Tartakovsky was right. Without the queen the descent into madness was too steep.” His breathing apparatus purred. “Dr. Zhonmua said we were playing god. I do not know her gods, but they knew her. And they do not care for imitation.”

In the silence that followed the whirr of his suit sounded unbearably loud.

Garrus glanced at Liara, who toyed anxiously with a small tracer of dark energy between her thumb and forefinger.

“How did you do it?” Wrex asked.

Olar slowly swiveled his head to the left, then right, before coming back to rest on the krogan. “We found a derelict ship with an egg stored in a cryo chamber. Not just an egg. A _queen_. A glorious, beautiful queen.”

The krogan snarled. Olar merely blinked.

“And you woke her up,” Shepard surmised.

The volus nodded, a harsh rattle of breath rumbling through his suit valves. “We harvested her children. And now we pay the price.”

“What about Benezia?” Liara asked, the biotic flicker abruptly winking out. “Is she still alive?”

“She went into the nest,” the volus replied. “The secure labs.” He leaned towards Shepard, his tiny round body nearly toppling with the effort. “The asari has been watching us.”

Garrus cursed silently, immediately surveying the room. He’d been so distracted by the volus he’d lost track of the asari. His plates clenched when he realized the headcount was one less than it had been when they arrived.

“I will never leave this place alive,” Olar continued, handing Shepard a small keycard. “I know too much. No atonement. No forgiveness. But maybe you can rectify our mistake.”

“How?” Shepard asked, expression hard.

 “A neutron purge from the hot labs should destroy them. Tartakovsky was going to try it, but seeing as it has not been activated, I assume that he failed. I…could not go back.” His suit rasped. “Commander. Do you know what it is like to look upon evil and discover you are a coward?”

Garrus did not expect a reply, and certainly did not expect to hear the one Shepard uttered.

“Yes.”

Olar nodded, an awkward, jerky movement inside the suit. “I wish you luck.”

“Commander,” Garrus said, lowering his voice. “The asari that was here when she arrived. She’s gone now.”

Shepard’s eyes darted about the room, lips pressed together in a grim line. He turned back to the volus. “Who is the asari here?”

“Dr. Iallis,” Olar replied. “A molecular geneticist. She arrived about three weeks ago.”

“She’s a commando,” Liara murmured.

“Are you sure?” Shepard demanded.

“I know them when I see them.”

Shepard exhaled through his nose. “Well. I think it’s safe to say when we knock on Benezia’s door it’s not going to be a surprise.”

“Benezia will know there is an asari with you,” Liara said. “If she does not know it is me, she will wonder. It might…buy us a few minutes.”

Shepard held her gaze for a long moment. Garrus couldn’t help but feel there was some unspoken exchange happening between them, something startlingly private that Garrus had no business witnessing. He flicked a mandible and shuffled his feet.

“Garrus,” Shepard said, finally looking away. “You and Wrex are going to go investigate the hot labs. Carry out the purge, if you can. Liara, Alenko and I are going after Benezia.”

Beside him Wrex straightened, a gleam in his eye that was as close as a krogan came to giddy. Garrus merely sighed. “Somehow, I _knew_ you were going to say that.”

Shepard put a hand on the turian’s shoulder, same as he had in Garrus’ first few hours on the _Normandy._ Just like before, he made that invasive, uncomfortable gesture feel natural. “Do _not_ get yourselves killed. Just do what needs to be done and get out. Understand?”

“What about you?”

“I expect you to get your job done and then haul your asses over to the secure labs. I get the feeling a surprise flank might come in handy.”

“We’ll be there.”

“Good.”

Garrus glanced at the hulking shape of the krogan. “Well, Wrex. Feel like flushing a little murder and mayhem out of your system?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

~

Garrus glanced down at the keycard the volus had given them for the hot labs, then at the slot beside the elevator door. “Just so we’re all on the same page, this is a terrible idea, right?”

Wrex eyed him with one bright, salient pupil. “I don’t think we’re on the same…page.”

Garrus gestured up the elevator shaft. “The entire source of this… _containment_ breach is up there. That’s potentially a lot of angry rachni against only one angry krogan and his trusty turian sidekick.”

Wrex blinked. “You don’t like those odds?”

His mandibles pulled tight to his jaw. “You know, I’m not sure why I even brought it up.”

“Just keep your finger on the trigger and don’t let them spit on you.” Wrex glanced dubiously at the sniper rifle resting on Garrus’ back. “You can handle more than just a sniper rifle, can’t you? I don’t think a stampede of rachni is going to wait patiently for you to line up a shot.”

Garrus reached behind him to withdraw the Kovalyov rifle Shepard had procured and just _handed_ to him, no strings attached. Unless you counted wading into a rachni nest as a string. He’d never used a Rosenkov weapon before, but this one had considerably more kick than his Thunder. Apparently Haliat Armory could stand to learn a few tricks from the humans.

Garrus’ subvocals thrummed. “I don’t exactly have the blood thirsty rage of a krogan battlemaster, but I do have a strong instinct to go on living.”

Wrex gruffed something that might have been a chuckle. “There’s an old krogan proverb. A varren hunts with the teeth he’s got.”

“Terrifying, given our current predicament, but apt.” He sighed and slid the keycard into its slot. To his disappointment the red light over the door lock flashed to green. “My father always told me if I couldn’t handle authority I’d wind up a smear on the boot of some turian general. He may have gotten the species wrong, but his general principle still seems sound.”

“My father tried to murder me.”

Garrus cast a startled glanced at the krogan as the elevator door creaked open, but saw no signs of sarcasm on his scaly features. “I can’t _imagine_ why.”

The elevator descended deeper into the glacier with the occasional jerk and squeal of cables objecting to the cold. Garrus shuffled his weight from heel to talon, keeping his eye on his combat scanner. When the car slid to an eventual stop he held his breath. Wrex leaned forward, nostrils flaring.

The opening of the doors ushered in an acidic reek of vinegar and decomposing flesh that made Garrus’ stomach heave. Half a dozen rachni corpses crowded the receiving room, fractured shells, smoldering innards and limp tentacles strewn about the floor like discarded scraps. Nearly hidden under the carnage Garrus spied the talons of a turian hand, a salarian horn, a booted foot that looked human. Switching to his visor feed he identified the bodies of fourteen people, now nothing more than cooling sacks of rotten meat. The heavy silence felt so terribly at odds with the violence before them that Garrus thought for a second he’d accidentally switched off the audio feeds to his helmet.

“The elevator was locked down from the outside,” Wrex said.

Garrus’ mandibles flared in distaste. “They came here to escape. Instead they wound up in the middle of a bloodbath.”

“They weren’t the only ones looking for a way out,” Wrex replied, stabbing at the cracked carapace of one of the rachni with a massive boot. “Turned this place into a kill zone.” He looked around, eyes blinking in such a chillingly _reptile_ fashion that Garrus suppressed a shudder. “Question is, where are the rest? No chance they’re all dead. Rachni are too smart for that.”

“Based on the schematics, the actual lab space here is pretty sizeable. More likely they’re just lying low somewhere, waiting for some idiots to come and unlock the door.”

A human biorhythm flashed suddenly in his visor feed. His head swiveled left towards a far corner, where a rachni corpse sprawled across an overturned desk.

Respiration shallow. Blood pressure low. Heart rate hovering just above arrest. But still very much _alive_.

He picked his way through the mangled corpses, trying not to look at the hollow, empty eyes leering from the dead rachni. Before today Garrus would have named batarians as the species with the most alien countenance; their bifurcated eyes and round facial ridges had just always struck him as fundamentally different. But the rachni were a whole other level of uncomfortable.

With a grimace he grabbed on to the lifeless tentacle of the body on the desk and yanked, sending it toppling to the floor. Beneath, partially pinned by the desk, lay a human man. His leg canted at such an unnatural angle under the rim of the metal desk that Garrus wasn’t even sure it was still attached. The strap of a belt pulled tight across his thigh stemmed the flow of blood. Garrus gripped the desk, ready to lift, but thought better of it. Spirits knew how long he’d lain like this. A quick review of his visor readings informed him humans had a major artery in their leg – the makeshift tourniquet would only do so much. Without a medic the fallen desk might be the only thing keeping him alive.

“Survivor?” Wrex asked, senses still on alert, eyes roving ceaselessly. No matter what Garrus’ combat scanner told him, the krogan still believed their enemy was close.

As if in response the man groaned, eyes fluttering open. At the sight of the turian he extended a trembling arm, the keratin on his fingers stained with bits of blood and slivers of chitin. His broad face had taken a hit from rachni spit, part of his cheek melted away into charred curds of roasted flesh. Dumbfounded, Garrus offered his hand, which the man gripped with astonishing force.

“Must listen to me,” he rasped, accent so thick that Garrus’ translator took an extra few seconds to process it. Garrus could see the teeth move behind his shredded cheek, blackened gums sliding up and down under the ruined flesh. “If we do not contain our mistake, they drop bombs from the battle stations. You understand?”

“Code Omega,” Garrus said with a nod. “Yes. We’re here to help.”

He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and gripping Garrus’ talons even harder.

“You unleashed rachni,” Wrex said with a growl, leaning over Garrus’ shoulder.

“Planned to clone them,” he said. Garrus’s visor alerted him to a dangerous drop in blood pressure. The man’s skin, a much darker pigment than Shepard’s to begin with, now looked ashen. “She was a queen. So… _beautiful_. But we took the babies. We thought…we thought without her, we could raise the offspring to be obedient.”

Wrex glanced around the room. “Bang up job.”

The man’s other arm pawed at Garrus’ chest. “It was…mistake. Like raising child in dark room. They are feral. Mad! Had to…lock down lab to prevent escape.”

_Trapping everyone inside, including himself._

Garrus took his flailing hand, turned and placed it gently on his chest. The pads of his fingers were sticky, leaving damp trails where the acid had chewed through down to the bone, probably from swiping at his mangled cheek.

“Everyone’s dead,” Garrus said, voice flanging with a mixture of sympathy and horror the human thankfully wouldn’t be able to pick up on.

“Payment…for our mistake. Must initiate neutron purge. I was…unsuccessful. Rachni got here first.”

“What do we need to do?”

“Need…Mira.”

In spite of himself, Garrus glanced at Wrex. “Well. At least we didn’t do all that work for nothing.”

“Codes. Take ID card. Initiate purge.”

Wrex growled. Something rattled behind the wall. Garrus glanced up sharply, pulling his talons away from the dying man.     

_The vents._

A grate along the edge exploded outwards, followed by tentacles flying like grapnels. Garrus, half-leaping, half pulled backwards by the krogan, collided hard with the ground and rolled.

One of the tentacles sought out the wounded man like a missile, goring him through the chest with a jet of blood and severed vitals. The sound of Wrex’s shotgun overlapped the rachni’s vociferant shrieks in a deafening concussion of sound that left his ears ringing.

When the smoke cleared the shredded remnants of the monster lay strewn about the human’s body, now little more than a basin of gore.

“Spirits!” he gasped, scrambling to his feet.

“They’re in the ducts,” Wrex rumbled. “Whatever we have to do, do it fast.”

Garrus shoved aside some of the smoking entrails with a hiss, padding the dead man’s pockets for an ID card and fervently hoping acid hadn’t eaten through it. When his talons scraped plastic he ripped the card free, back peddling as the ablative coating on his hardsuit began to smoke.

“We need a Mira terminal,” he said, vocals thrumming in tune with his pounding heart.

Wrex pointed to a door marked mainframe access.

“If you tell Shepard that you were the one who kept a level head during this little crusade I’ll find a way to kill you. I don’t care if I have to resort to dirty tactics to get it done, either.”

Wrex grunted. “A hundred insane rachni are closing in on our position as we speak, and you’re worried about appearances. This is why I hate turians.”

“Oh, so it’s _not_ the genophage? I feel like we’re making progress.”

The krogan glowered. _“Move.”_

Garrus clammed his jaw shut and bolted for the door, jamming the pilfered keycard through the slot. It opened without complaint, and the two shoved their way inside. As it whipped shut behind him Garrus heard the clatter of floor tiles followed by now-familiar piercing shrieks.

The mainframe access was little larger than closet. He glanced at Wrex, who stood with his ear to the door, nostrils flared and lips curled in a snarl. With a shaky exhale Garrus flexed his talons, eyes falling on a holo emitter with a Binary Helix logo in the corner. He stabbed at the power button, mandibles quivering when the emitters kicked on and spun a web of light into the opaque shape of the Mira VI.

“Please state query.”

“I need to initiate a neutron purge,” Garrus said, stopping himself just short of pleading.

“Clearance verification required.”

Garrus glanced down at the card in his hand. _Yaroslev Tartakovsky_ was plastered on the front in neat typescript, with a row of numbers beneath. Garrus was pretty sure he could have gone the rest of his life without knowing the man’s name.

“Code input 875-020-079,” he read. “Code Omega local execution.”

“Verified,” she said pleasantly. Binary Helix _really_ needed to add a tonal modulator to their VI’s vocal programming.  

“Code Omega execution in 120 seconds. Hot lab mainframe unshielded. Recommend immediate evacuation to safe distance.”

Unshielded? Whose bright idea was _that?_

“Did you bother to ask it if the elevator shaft down to Rift Station is shielded?” Wrex asked.

“You know, it didn’t come up.”

Wrex hefted his shotgun and aimed a closed fist at the door lock. “Time to go.”              

A wall of shrill, discordant sound greeted them when the door slid open. In the short minutes they’d been in the mainframe the rachni had converged upon the room in a writhing mass of scrabbling talons and tentacles, all pressing for the elevator.

“Garrus. Now would be a good time to put your credits where your mouth is with that assault rifle.”

“Wrex, if I’m going to die, it’s going to be somewhere sunny and warm.”

They opened fire in a simultaneous hail of bullets, while the purge timer slowly ticked towards zero. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week instead of a chapter I'll be posting my tumblr Secret Santa gift. It's a silly, fluffy, happy Christmas fic in the same vein of 'Wishes,' so MERRY CHRISTMAS everyone and thanks so much for reading! The next Exordium update will be 12/29. Christmas fic will probably go up mid-late week.


	32. Prodigus Filiam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Happy holidays, everyone. Next week normal Sunday updates will resume.

 

_Know your enemy’s weakness._

Those words had formed the cornerstone to many of Benezia’s teachings. No matter your skill, no matter how much power you wielded, a single chink in armor could be exploited. Growing up, Liara had never considered what her mother’s weakness might have been, though her mother had always been acutely aware of Liara’s own. It had never seemed important.

But now her mother was the enemy.

Liara had been able to push that notion away, still fool herself into thinking there had to be another explanation, right up until the moment they emerged from the barracks and found Ventralis waiting for them. Only this time, he did not lower his gun. He was on Benezia’s payroll. A tool in her arsenal.

Shepard stepped forward, putting himself between Ventralis and the rest of his team. “Let us pass,” he demanded. “I’m getting to Benezia. I’d rather not go through you, but I will.”

Regret passed across the human captain’s face, but his resolve did not lessen. “I’m sorry, Shepard. I have my orders.”

“I’m your way out of here, Ventralis,” Shepard warned, assault rifle held at ready. “I’m here to help you. She doesn’t give a damn whether you live or die. I do. Unless you get in my way.”

Ventralis adjusted his grip on his weapon, lips twisting in a grimace. “I can’t, Shepard.”

She felt a snap of biotic energy as Alenko deployed his barrier, and quickly followed his lead. “You’re making a mistake,” said the lieutenant.

“Surrender your weapons,” Ventralis replied, in a tone resigned to the futility of the request.

Liara did not know who fired first. The sudden rush of gunfire came in a blur, enemy bullets refracting off their shields in shimmers of blue as Shepard and Alenko responded in kind.

For several crucial seconds Liara hesitated, unprepared to fire on someone who moments ago she’d thought was an ally. Several shots slammed through her barrier right through to her shields, emitters bleeding away the force with a desperate whine. As the warning klaxon blared in her HUD a sudden force struck her from the side, knocking her out of the line of fire. _Shepard_ , she thought dimly. His black-armored arms surrounded her, body acting as a shield until Alenko shut down their heat syncs with a few well-placed tech mines. The moment their weapons overheated Shepard pushed up and away, going back on the offensive.

_Get up,_ her mind screamed _. Get up get up get up!_

She did, pistol clenched in one hand, a coil of writhing blue energy blazing around her other. Snippets of the biotic training she’d had as a girl entered her brain, whispered in the memory of her mother’s voice.

_Your surroundings can be your greatest friend, or your greatest enemy._

She fired the pistol, sending two of Ventralis’ men trying to close scrambling for cover, then hurled the seething mass of dark energy at the overturned tables and scrap they’d ducked behind, wrenching it loose and flinging it violently at their crouched bodies. Metal clanged against deckplates with an earsplitting screech, bowling over guards and in some cases pinning limbs to the floor with a scream and splinter of bone. Alenko tossed another tech mine to add to the bedlam. Once it detonated he and Shepard took the remaining guards down swift and hard as Liara snared the stragglers and left them vulnerable to the chatter of Shepard’s assault rifle.

Blood flew, streams of crimson spattering the walls, the floor, and she tried not to flinch. On Feros she had only faced geth. When Hannah Murakami had stared her down, Alenko had bailed her out. On Agebinium it had been easy to think of the pirates as evil, people too dangerous to let live. But these guards had just been…people. With families, no doubt. Innocuous lives of their own shattered by a hail of needless gunfire.

None of it appeared to bother Shepard, or even Alenko, who waded through the sanguineous mire with a blank, stoic expression on his face as he checked the bodies for signs of life. If only she knew how to do the same.   

Shepard settled a hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, unable to pull her eyes away from the carnage. It was all she could do not to overlay the face of one of the guards with that of Benezia’s. _This is what waits for you in the next room._

“We didn’t have a choice,” Shepard said, voice low.

“I know.”

Very gently he turned her head, directing her gaze to him. Through their faceplates it was hard to make out his expression, but the tenor of his voice made the memory of the meld sing through her nerves, setting her skin alight with sudden warmth.

“We didn’t have a choice,” he repeated. “Liara, if you’re not ready for this—”

“I am ready,” she interrupted, unable to let him finish.

His hand drifted to the side of her helmet, gauntleted fingers brushing against the ablative coating. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this,” he said. “Alenko and I can handle Benezia.”

She shook her head, inadvertently dislodging his hand. “You need me in there. I’m the only one with a chance to stop her.”

Very briefly, his eyes darted to the bloodied remains of Ventralis’ men, so swift she almost missed it. “And if you can’t?”

“I will do whatever I have to,” she insisted. “Whatever that means.”

“Shepard,” Alenko said, tone tight and guarded. “We need to keep moving. We don’t know where the commandos are, or how many she’s got.”

Shepard’s gaze remained fixed on Liara, ice blue irises searching for something inside of her that she did not know if she possessed.

“Ok,” he said finally. “Let’s go.”

She didn’t pay attention to whether his answer was meant for Alenko or meant for her. Instead she looked past them in the direction of the secure labs, and what waited within.

 

~

_A ray of sunshine falls over Liara’s face as she sits down on the bench beside her mother. The rain shower that morning has cleared out the sticky air and left a cool, soft sting in its wake, enough that her skin prickles in the breeze. Benezia removes her yellow cloak and drapes it around her daughter’s narrow shoulders, the fabric pooling in her lap in wafts of shimmery gold. Her legs, too short to touch the ground, swish impatiently back and forth._

_From here they can see everyone passing in and out of the temple. Benezia loves to people watch. Liara does too, but not today, not after the glorious gift her mother has laid in her lap._

_The book is heavy in Liara’s tiny hands, pages filled with wisdom so exciting that her fingers spark with tendrils of blue fire. “Careful,” Benezia warns her. “Remember our lessons about control?”_

_She does, but biotics are the least interesting thing in the world to her right now, and she doesn’t care if she ever learns how to craft a singularity like her mother so long as she has_ this.

_This is not the extranet, a library of texts compiled into a datapad. These are pages, real pages, smooth and fragile and smelling of dust. She is afraid that if she looks away the book will disappear like a dream._

_“Where did you get it?” she breathes._

_Benezia smiles, reaches an arm around her daughter’s shoulder and guides her closer. Liara allows herself to be pulled by her mother’s tidal, irresistible force, nestling into her warmth as she gently strokes the cover. Her mother’s stern symmetry softens briefly, chest rising and falling with a contented sigh._

_“I thought if you insist on digging in the dirt for lost secrets you should have a proper history book.” She pulls back the cover, spine creaking where it rests against Liara’s lap. “Shall I read to you about the protheans?”_

_“Yes!” Liara exclaims. The only thing better than reading the words herself is hearing them in her mother’s rich, sonorous voice. They have an appointment to go to, Someone Important inside the temple her mother wishes to meet with, but Liara does not question these stolen moments, sitting under the shade of a flowering tree, sun striking the small jewels sewn into Benezia’s gown so that she glimmers like a fiery star._

_This is perfect, she thinks. Everything is perfect. She knows it will always be so._

_~_

Fifty years hadn’t changed the stern, graven lines of Benezia’s face, but nothing about her looked familiar. The headdress Liara so admired in her youth sat on her head like an iron crown, the long metal shanks lending her grey eyes a hard, cruel glint. In the unfriendly light of the lab her deep crimson gown – always a gown, at least some things haven’t changed – took on the color of black blood.

_My mother always wore yellow._

She stood on a raised platform a few meters inside the door, part of a metal walkway skirting the circumference of the lab. Something large and bulky occupied the center, but Liara could not bring herself to tear her gaze away from the stranger standing before her to see what it was.  

“Liara.”

There was no warmth in her tone, the woman who had read to her in the park so distant the memory didn’t seem real.

 Liara licked her lips, sweat gathering on her palms. “Mother.”

The elder asari stepped forwards, her silhouette passing under the light of one of blaring fluorescents overhead, and Liara smothered a gasp. While her mother’s posture remained proud and defiant, the rachni had not left her unscathed. Long rents in her dark gown parted as she glided across the dais, revealing the pale white gleam of hardened medigel slathered across her skin. Nearly hidden behind the left shank of her headdress Liara caught sight of a jagged burn caked with blood, some hers, some undoubtedly belonging to the rachni. Her mother’s stride, while smooth and authoritative, was not effortless. Not the way Liara remembered.

_Mother, no._

But if the extent of her injuries were a concern no evidence of it could be found in her stony gaze, which she now directed disdainfully at Shepard.

“This human you travel with is earning himself quite the reputation,” she said, her low voice carrying in the cavernous room. She clasped her hands together to conceal a brief tremble of exertion. “I assured Saren he was wrong. My only daughter would not betray us to a stranger.”

Liara’s shoulder twitched, muddled memories of Therum racing through her mind, and Shepard’s calm, reassuring voice resonating in her ears.

_I’ll get you out._

Her hands curled into fists, thoughts bending to the room’s rich gravity well, which hummed willingly in response. The room nearly crackled with static charge, the air bitter and heavy. They were not alone. The open space sang with shifting densities, biotic barriers of varying strengths creating voids that pushed and pulled against her senses. Her eyes flicked nervously to Shepard. Benezia had at least a full squad of commandos at her disposal. _Three against twelve._ And the open space of the lab offered little cover.

Liara straightened her narrow shoulders, raised her chin and met her mother’s gaze.    

“Is that why you sent the geth to kill me?”

Benezia’s expression rippled with sudden surprise, the first sign since entering the lab that something real existed behind the mask. “You…were not to be harmed.”

“Did Saren tell you that?”

“You do not understand his vision,” she replied, voice cold. There are…sacrifices that must be made. Too much is at stake.”

“Tell me,” Liara pleaded. “Shepard has seen the beacon. _I_ have seen the beacon! How could you help someone like Saren destroy us all? We know what’s coming. We need your help… _I_ need your help.”

Benezia’s eyes slid from Liara to Shepard, wearing same closed, dismissive expression she had once reserved for tiresome politicians. “What have you told him about me, Liara?”

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. “What could I say, mother? That you’ve gone insane? Should I explain how to kill you? Tell me, _what could I say?”_

Instead of answering Benezia turned away, fingers laced at her back. Down the backs of her arms Liara saw fresh contusions wrapping around her blue skin like skeins of rope. The hem of her tattered dress swished as she strolled towards a control room jutting out off the platform. From her lower vantage point Liara could not see inside, but her gaze turned to what it overlooked. She gasped.

An enormous cylindrical prison hung suspended over the center of the lab, within which a single occupant tapped at transparent panels with sharp, deadly talons.

The rachni queen’s monstrous shape was as beautiful as it was horrifying, a massive ridged exoskeleton lit with white light, eye clusters on either side of her great head gleaming with canny awareness. From somewhere within her great bulk welled a piercing keen that slid through her like a lance. 

“You do not know the privilege of being a mother,” Benezia said, voice soft, almost sad. “To shape life. Turn it towards happiness or despair. Her children were to be ours.” Her shoulders hunched. “The galaxy will not understand Saren’s intentions. They will resist. The rachni were to help us bring everything to fruition.”

“You were wrong,” Shepard said, stepping beside Liara. “These are sentient, intelligent creatures. You _enslaved_ them. Tried to harness a power you couldn’t control. Now you’re trapped like rats on a sinking ship.”

Benezia turned her head, levelling the commander with a joyless smile. “Have you ever faced an asari commando unit before? Few humans have.”

Liara felt a snap and hiss as the current of the room’s gravity suddenly shifted. Three asari commandos ascended a staircase behind her mother on the opposite side of the platform, coronas bright as blue flame. Two carried assault rifles, one a shotgun. Below them on the steps, nearly out of sight, Liara caught the glint of a long sniper’s barrel. Shepard observed the reinforcements without a hint of concern, a quick, subtle dart of his pupils the only indication that he’d acknowledged them at all.

“I came for answers, not a fight,” he replied.

For a brief moment her stoic calm broke, like water cresting a dam. “You brought my daughter here to buy my cooperation. But I will _not_ be cowed by you, or by anyone who rises against me!”            

Liara knew every mnemonic of her mother’s as though seeing it in a mirror. Benezia’s hand rose into a fist, biotic energy playing around her knuckles like small rings of fire, eyes fixed on Shepard.

“Mother, _no!”_

Liara shoved him – hard – knocking him to the ground as tendrils of dark energy screamed past with a malicious hum. Instead of Shepard it found her, smothering her limbs in a thick, iron embrace. Her vision blurred, as though a thick pane of cloudy glass had fallen across her eyes. The sharp echoes of boots on metal became muffled and thick. Liara commanded her feet to move, found them leaden and sluggish.

Through her dulled, muddy senses she heard her mother’s gasp of dismay, the muzzy pop of Alenko’s pistol, the muted detonation of a tech mine. The spray of sparks created a temporary wall between Liara and her mother, slicing through the current of dark energy like a scythe. The biotic prison disintegrated with a groan and a heave, leaving behind the taste of copper in her mouth.

Shepard’s hand closed around Liara’s wrist, yanking her backwards. She collided with Shepard’s chest, limbs still leaden with the latent weight of distorted gravity, felt his arms lock around her waist as he skirted a stack of supply crates. Alenko provided cover fire as they backed around the corner down the catwalk to the right of the door they had entered. At the far side of the lab opposite the control room the catwalk ascended up a flight of stairs to another raised platform on the other side of the rachni’s prison.

Two commandos pursued them from control room as Benezia retreated, leaning heavily against the glass and cradling her arms across her abdomen. Liara felt a sudden yawn and shift in the air behind her as more commandos moved into position in an attempt to flank.

“Watch out,” Liara slurred. “Behind us!”

“Alenko,” Shepard barked, “we need that high ground. You watch the twelve, I’ve got our six!”

Gunfire rattled at their backs, clattering against Shepard’s shields. One arm still securing Liara, he sprung his shotgun from its holster behind his waist and abducted his right arm, firing two quick one-handed shots behind him.

The numbness finally dissipated from her limbs, and Liara found her feet. Shepard let go, in one fluid movement turning around and bringing his left hand up to support the barrel of his gun. Two asari with shotguns closed in behind them, one firing, the other shimmering with a bright blue aura. Liara blazed in response, reaching up with one hand to siphon a rill of dark energy to her, adding to the heavy distortion already choking the overcharged air. With a cry she pushed it outward with all the force she could muster. The air seethed. Two opposing biotic fields charged into one another, detonating the building electricity with a deafening boom.   

Through it all Shepard kept moving. The shotgun kicked, catching the spent asari in the chest and snuffing out her corona with a blare of light and a whiff of ozone. The other turned and raced back to the rear of the lab, sailing over a crate sitting at the corner of the stairs with a leap and gleam of blue.

Shepard already had the shotgun stowed and one hand on his rifle. In the space of an eye blink he had it out and firing into the crate. Liara spotted another commando on the platform, finger on the trigger of an assault rifle pointed at the commander’s head. She caught sight of deep scouring on the weapon casing that extended to the asari’s armor.

_Benezia was not the only one wounded by the rachni._

With a quick intake of breath her corona flared, a writhing gauntlet of blue sluicing down her arm. She focused it on a single point in front of the asari until the gravitational forces collapsed in on themselves, slow at first, then with frightening speed. The dismayed asari’s barrier pulsed white, singing the air around her as it struggled to withstand the overwhelming pull of a rapidly expanding event horizon. Liara smirked in grim satisfaction.

Few could master the level of power and control it took to create a true biotic singularity.

_I am my mother’s daughter._

The singularity opened with a roar, swallowing the commando. Shepard never took his eyes off the asari behind the crate, laying off the trigger only to let the heat sinks cool. In a flash she was up, bending dark energy to her, distilling it into a blue orb she flung with a quick snap of her wrist. Shepard was ready. He skated to the side, bracing himself. As the powerful biotic tendrils swept him off balance he thumbed a grenade from his pouch. Its errant course sent it warbling through the supercharged air until it struck a crate. The explosion knocked his enemy back into the wall hard enough that her barrier let go with a whoosh and scream of disoriented energy. Shepard lunged back to his feet. By that time the heat sinks had cooled. The rifle resumed its angry chatter, slugs puncturing her defenseless hardsuit and drawing out rivulets of purple blood.

A bullet whizzed past them from the direction they had come. Alenko swore. Liara felt the currents in the room slant as a blue corona flared to life in her periphery, followed by the scrape and grind of metal.  She turned to see Alenko lifting the crates by the door in a coil of blue and dumping them in a heap across the catwalk, forcing the asari shooting at them to dive out of the way.

Liara caught a glimpse of her mother’s face, unmoved, standing straighter now, watching them through the glass observation panels of the control room. 

The singularity convulsed as she loosened her hold on it, then erupted violently with a coruscating flash of light and a roar Liara felt deep in her chest. The asari screamed at the sudden, shearing acceleration ripping through her body as space-time reasserted itself, and hit the ground with a thud.  

Shepard turned a baleful glance at the crippled commando, stowed his rifle with a sweep of his hand in favor of the shotgun, and planted a round point blank into her head. “Stairs,” he ordered, and the three of them rushed up the steps and onto the platform, placing the rachni’s prison squarely between them and Benezia. Alenko sent several tech mines skidding down the steps behind them, where they spun like tops until coming to rest near the corner.

“We’re about to find out if a little experiment Tali and I concocted is about to work,” he said grimly.

“Those have proximity detectors?” Shepard asked.

“Damn right.”

Liara opened her mouth but no sound came out as Shepard seized her by the shoulders and threw her roughly to the ground. She caught a red shimmer a nanosecond before a bullet buried itself in the wall behind her. Stunned, she turned her head to thank him, but he was already up and on the move, shouting.

“Alenko, we’ve got snipers on our two!”

Alenko judged the distance, loaded an overload mine into a rail launcher on his pistol, aimed and fired. Across the room a shower of sparks erupted, followed by the whine of an overheat klaxon.

“That’ll hold her for a minute!”

Liara’s sense of equilibrium canted as gravity shifted again. She whipped her head right to see two more commandos moving into position. One palmed a sphere of dark energy, unleashing it with furious force that rent the air around them, parting it violently and striking Shepard full in the chest.  His emitters howled as humming, shifting mass effect fields tore through the repulsive nature of his shields. Liara countered, amp hissing as her own liquid attack screamed across the already tormented lab, hungrily seeking out the other disturbances leaving their mark on the air. A sharp, metallic taste rose up in the back of Liara’s mouth, the sheer volume of opposing fields searching for dominance an assault in her every nerve.   

Shepard’s shotgun pumped as Alenko tossed another grenade and called out a warning. Shepard twisted to the side with uncanny agility as Alenko and Liara flattened themselves against the railing. When the tech mine detonated the asari cried out, hand flying to the back of her neck. From the catwalk Liara could smell the sharp tang of burnt ozone. Whatever Alenko had done to that mine, it had disabled her amp.

Shepard never looked back or broke stride, shotgun blaring in rhythm with his feet as he advanced down the catwalk. Liara gathered her own corona, amp humming against her neck as dark energy swirled into a concentrated ball of kinetic mass she then launched at the closest target.

Between the blare of the shotgun and the telekinetic wall of biotic energy, the commando had nowhere to go. Her brow tightened right before Liara’s blow threw her backward, the expression in her eyes one Liara had been all too familiar with during her training sessions: _I should have known better_. Only Liara had paid for her mistakes with a lecture and rap on the wrist. This woman was going to pay with her life.

The second asari, not sparing her fallen comrade a glance, wrapped her finger around the trigger of a pistol and squeezed off three quick shots.  Shepard’s shields, still recovering from the shearing effect of the warp field, sputtered, then failed completely.  But he’d crested the stairs now, close enough to reach out and grab her by the arm even as she dodged to the side with a flick of her wrists and flash of corona. He turned his back into her and pulled down on her wrist, bringing her up over his shoulder and slamming to the ground in front of him with enough force to punch the air from her lungs, barrier snuffing out like a pinched candle. As she gasped for breath Shepard let go and withdrew his shotgun as swiftly as he’d stowed it. Liara looked away as it erupted.

One of the mines Alenko had planted detonated with a crack, but not before a slug cut past his shields and buried itself in the kinetic padding of his shoulder. “Son of a _bitch._ Shepard, left flank!”

Shepard turned on his heel, switching effortlessly to his assault rifle. His feet pounded the deck, rifle bucking in his grip as he laid down a volley of suppressive fire.

“Liara, there’s three more at your one and two,” he said as he drove past.

She peered over the railing towards the far right corner across from the control room, where a commando with a sniper rifle crouched on the far stairs. Two more waited at the bottom of the steps, one armed with a shotgun, the other with a pistol.  

A flash of red glanced off the railing, and Liara ducked back down with a sharp intake of breath. To her left the chatter of Shepard’s assault rifle echoed off the metal floor panels with sharp chings, followed by a low murmur from Alenko about explosive chemicals. Liara again sought out the sniper, mind racing. Between the rachni enclosure and surrounding pylons she didn’t have good line of sight for a biotic attack, and she wasn’t good enough with a pistol.

She felt for the gun in her holster and gripped the handle. Exhaling, she stood up and fired. The shots went woefully wild. With a frustrated growl she called upon her amp once more, channeling a biotic surge and directing it towards the other side of the platform in hopes of at least forcing the marksman back into cover and buy a moment to think.

_Know your enemy’s weakness._

Their biotic attacks were slowing. Surviving the rachni this long had taken its toll. 

At the opposite end of the platform, Shepard drew his own sniper rifle, sighting down the barrel at something near the ceiling. A moment later a pressurized container mounted to a duct running into the rachni cage exploded, spewing liquid down onto the commandos below. Screams erupted, shrill and panicked and wracked with agony. Shepard dropped back down, expression blank, and shunted a new round into the chamber.

_They’re tired. You can handle the two troopers._

But that still left the marksman. And Benezia. Wounded or no, her mother wouldn’t yield. She was too proud.

_Know your enemy’s weakness._

But her mother didn’t have one.

Unless…In her mind she saw the flicker of surprise race through Benezia’s eyes upon learning the geth had almost killed her, heard the small gasp of dismay when the stasis field meant for Shepard had latched on to her limbs. She ground her teeth.

_I will do whatever is necessary._

As Shepard picked off another commando with his rifle Liara slid towards the stairs, barrier wrapping firmly around her.

“Mother,” she called out, heart hammering in her ears. “I love you.”

She stood.

Shepard’s head whipped around, liquid fast. “Liara, what are you—”

She flew down the stairs, barrier as bright as a star, squeezing the trigger of her pistol with one hand, the other brandishing a gauntlet of dark energy, the lessons her mother had taught her so many years ago running circles in her mind. Asari combat had always been akin to choreography, using biotics to ebb and flow with your surroundings, supplanting brute strength with a lithe, supple weave just as deadly given the right skills and reflexes.

_The blades of grass should not bend under your feet_.

The air shimmered as she reached the lower catwalk, her barrier crackling as an assault of dark energy crawled across her body. Using her corona for momentum she glided away, finding room even in the narrow confines of the catwalk.

_To your enemy you are a wraith, present one moment, dissipating like vapor the next._

The two commandos waiting at the other end saw their opportunity and charged. Liara struck the closest one, writhing blue fire slamming her to the ground as Liara sailed past in one lissome sequence. As the other asari countered she pirouetted off one foot, corona blazing as she came back down and unleashed another biotic salvo that flung her enemy with such force Liara heard her spine crack against the railing.

_When you have your enemy at your mercy, show none._

With a soft push off her heel she turned back to the first commando now getting slowly up off the deck, exposing her back and raising her hands for one more effort, amp hot against the skin of her neck. She saw the light of the targeting laser dance briefly off the metal floor panels, closed her eyes, and prayed.

The bullet she expected to pierce her skull never came. Instead the air heaved, spinning Liara’s sense of balance as the room’s gravity well keened sharply. A shrill cry of dismay sounded at her back. Liara turned to see the marksman held rigid in a gossamer cloud of biotic energy, eyes bulging, fingers splayed wide and stiff with pain as it seeped through her pores and tore through her nervous system.

Breathless, she looked to see her mother emerge from the control room, bent from the effort, grief etched across her graven features. Eyes that had been so stoic, so callous before, now welled with tears.

“Liara,” she cried, voice wavering as the body of the commando crumpled to the floor. The powerful field dissipated with a snap and a roar, and Benezia slumped against the railing with a cry of pain.

Liara ran, clearing the steps and flinging herself into her mother’s trembling arms. “Mother! Oh _Goddess_.”   

As Shepard and Alenko raced up to join them, weapons still drawn, Benezia leaned back and cupped Liara’s cheeks in her palms as she hadn’t done since Liara was a small child, face tight with pain and distress. Something lurked behind her eyes that made Liara’s chest tighten.

_Fear._

“Liara, you must listen.”

“It’s going to be ok, mother. I’m here. I’m going to get you out.”

“No, child,” she whispered, and Liara’s heart sank. “Saren whispers in my mind. The indoctrination is so _strong_. I cannot fight it.”

Liara wrapped her fingers around Benezia’s wrists, leaning in until their foreheads touched. “What’s happened to you? Tell me. We can fix it. We can fix it.”

The arrogance and pride had drained from Benezia’s face, leaving behind someone desperate and unbearably weary. “I thought…he would listen to me. Thought that he could not control me the way he does the others. But I was wrong, Little Wing. So wrong.” Her hand glazed her abdomen, where Liara saw purple blood oozing around the medigel patch. Immediately she fumbled for her first aid kit.

_“No_ ,” Benezia said fiercely, pushing her hand away. “I need the pain to fight him off. It is…it is all I have left, and my reprieve will be short.”

“How?” Liara pleaded. “How does he control you? Tell me so we can save you!”

“You cannot,” she said, wiping a stray tear from Liara’s cheek with a soft swipe of her thumb. “I was a fool, and now I pay for my short sightedness. You must know what I did not. You must _do_ what I could not.”

“What?” she whispered, the sound harsh in her throat.

“It’s his ship,” her mother said softly, a grimace passing across her face. “Sovereign. Saren somehow uses it to…control. The longer you are with him, the more intoxicating his words become. Subtle at first. Slow. But in the end absolute. He has made me a willing hostage, a purveyor of his will. Liara, you _must_ stop me.”

“No,” she moaned. “Stay with me.”

“Why did Saren send you here?” Shepard asked, tone unnervingly gentle, and not, she thought, for Benezia’s sake.

Benezia’s features contorted, a schism of pain eliciting a small shudder. “He is looking for the Mu Relay.”

“Why?”

“I…do not know.”

Liara frowned. “That relay was lost _thousands_ of years ago.”

“How?” Shepard demanded.

“A supernova knocked it out of position,” Benezia said, the words coming with effort now. “The resulting nebula swallowed the relay in a swath of hot dust and radiation.”

Shepard’s hand twitched on his gun. “What does that have to do with the rachni?”

“The location of the Mu Relay was somewhere in rachni space. They were a deeply territorial people, Commander. They searched for a millennia to find it, close it off. When they died, the location of the relay died with them.”

A harsh breath rattled in Liara’s throat, her eyes flicking to the dark shape lurking within its glass prison.

Benezia lowered her head, brow creased with shame. “Rachni queens share ancestral memories. So I took the location of the relay from the queen’s mind when she wouldn’t give it freely. I…was not gentle.”

Liara gripped her mother’s wrists tighter, as if she could anchor her down and keep Saren’s voice at bay. “Mother, that’s not enough. Where did he plan to go? That relay can lead to half a dozen systems. What does he want?”

Benezia cried out, tearing herself from Liara’s grip and stumbling to her feet. “The coordinates…are stored in the mainframe. I have already transmitted them to Saren. You must…go after him. You must...”

“No,” Liara begged.

She touched a hand to the steel shank of her headdress, shaking her head. “I cannot shut him out. If you could only see it, Liara. The reapers. They’re so… _beautiful.”_

Liara jerked away as Shepard laid a hand on her arm. “ _Mother!_ Don’t leave.”

Benezia extended a shaking arm, fingers outstretched towards the door behind them, remorse draining away until nothing remained but the stranger who had greeted her when she arrived.

“Your pleas are poison. A distraction from what I need to do. With Saren at my side my mind is _clear.”_

“You’ve lost,” Shepard cut in harshly. “There’s nothing to gain here by fighting me. You’re _beaten_ , Benezia. Listen to your daughter.”

The smile that curved her lips chilled Liara to the bone. “Commander, those…were not my only commandos.”

Liara’s heart fell to her feet. The door behind them flashed green and hissed abruptly open. Shepard pushed Liara against the wall with one arm, other hand already reaching for his pistol. Alenko hefted a grenade, corona welling up in a bright blue shimmer.

Nothing happened.

Liara stared in shock as a turian and a krogan stepped inside the lab, covered in blood and gore, hardsuits gouged so deep in places she could see open skin underneath.

Wrex’s lip curled at the sight of Benezia as he raised a still-smoking shotgun.  “I expected better from asari commandos.”

Benezia’s features twisted with incandescent rage, so alien Liara couldn’t fathom how moments ago this creature had been her mother. Her limbs felt like lead as the matriarch’s corona flared, a blue aura of unfettered hate that sent a resonant, discordant keen railing through Liara’s skin.

_No. Not this. Not like this._

Liara’s own biotics welled around her in answer, but she couldn’t bring herself to strike. A small part of her still could not, _would_ not believe, that her mother intended her harm.

Not until Benezia’s baleful gleam honed in on her like a lance, and every ounce of power her mother had poured into a tidal wave intended to rip her apart.   

_“Shepard!”_

She heard Alenko shout, followed immediately by the sizzle and sparks of a detonating mine. Liara felt a stinging heat at the back of her neck as her amp overloaded, sending a current of electricity running through her skin. Benezia, too, cried out in dismay, the wall of dark energy in her hands shuddering even as it started to surge, the remnants passing through her skin with little more than a sigh.

Shepard’s hand ground against her shoulder, sending her stumbling as he whipped his pistol around and pulled the trigger.

The first slug pierced Benezia’s shoulder, flinging her backwards with a spray of blood. The second took her in the abdomen, tearing through the medigel patch and opening up a purple seam that welled up and swiftly overflowed.

“Liara,” the matriarch murmured as she sank to her knees.

“ _No!”_

The pistol barked twice more.

Liara shoved against Shepard’s hand, pushing him roughly aside. With a strangled cry she raced to her mother’s side, where she collapsed and began to weep.    

   

   

  


	33. Misericordia

Shepard lowered his pistol, fingers numb, the force with which Liara had shoved him aside resonating harder than the gunshots. He slid the gun back in its holster like it had burned him, casting a quick glance at Alenko. The LT returned his solemn gaze with a subtle, unhappy nod. Shepard tilted his head towards Liara, unable to actually look at her, silently asking Alenko to do what he wanted to do more than anything in the world at that moment. But if she pushed him away he didn’t think he’d be able to take it.

Alenko, astute as always, moved to her side, murmuring something Shepard couldn’t hear. Garrus and Wrex made their way slowly into the lab, glancing about at the carnage.

Garrus peeled off his helmet, seals releasing with a soft hiss. “Well. I didn’t think things could get worse than Feros, but you have a knack for proving me wrong, Shepard.”

“Not now, Garrus,” Shepard snapped.

The turian flicked a mandible, but fell silent.

Wrex ignored them, kicking aside an asari corpse to clear a path to the other problem still waiting to be addressed. The monstrous rachni queen watched them from inside her prison, tentacles probing the thick glass. Brow furrowed, Shepard followed Wrex into the control room, staring intently with his arms folded across his chest and trying not to think about the scene behind him.

“Her tank is rigged with pressurized acid,” Wrex said, red eye glinting as he identified the remaining canisters Shepard hadn’t already destroyed. “Press a button and we spare the galaxy another blight.”

Shepard walked towards the imprisoned queen, HUD winking off as he sprung the catch to his helmet. Cold air washed across his skin, the sterile smell of the lab now mixing with the sharp tang of blood filtering through his nostrils. Crooking the helmet under his arm he placed one palm flat against the enclosure. She fixed him with a glowing, salient eye, a long rope of her tentacle wafting above her insect-like head. With brutal suddenness its sharp tines parted and drove against the glass. Shepard reeled backwards, helmet falling from his hands with a clatter as he fumbled for his gun.

“Shepard!”

Shepard whirled at the sound of Garrus’ shout, eyes widening in horror. The corpse of one of the asari commandos, the one Benezia had crippled herself, slowly rose to its feet, eyes wide and sightless, head lolling to the side on shattered vertebrae. With an unsteady, shambling gait not unlike the thorian husks, it stumbled towards Shepard and the krogan. Garrus curled a talon around the trigger of his gun, but Shepard, heart hammering in his ears, held up a cautious hand.

A small pinprick of white light gleamed deep in the center of the dead asari’s pupils, and when its feet came to a jerking halt a booming voice sounded from mangled vocals that reverberated in Shepard’s chest.

“ _This one serves as our voice,_ ” the asari corpse rumbled, each word efforted with slow, careful precision. “ _We…cannot sing. Not in these low spaces. Your…musics…are colorless._ ”

Shepard glanced swiftly between the queen and the corpse in bewilderment. “Sing? What?”

The dead face drooped, straightened again. “ _Your…voices…do not color the air. When we speak, one moves all._ ”

“Rachni speak in symphonies.”

Liara’s soft, defeated voice caught him by surprise, and he turned his head to find her watching with tear streaked eyes, still clutching Benezia’s hand. “Telekinetic communication. They sing. The queen can move entire armies with her song.”

“ _We…are…the…mother_ ,” the queen confirmed in the asari’s mutated voice. “ _We sing for those…left behind. The stolen children. We…are…rachni._ ”

Shepard eyed the main control panel, where the trigger for the acid canisters blinked patiently. “Your _children_ have done nothing but murder and destroy.”

The asari thrall swayed. Behind him, the grapples of the queen’s tentacles throbbed against the glass. “ _The children are beyond…our…songs. They…have been lost to silence._ ”

“She’s telling the truth,” Garrus said, subharmonics thrumming softly. “A researcher in the lab said they took the eggs she laid before they hatched, tried to raise the offspring themselves. Turns out that’s not a very good idea. Without the queen they were nothing more than children growing up locked in a dark room. Mad.”

“ _We…are…the last. Will you…release us?_ ”

“Your history doesn’t suggest setting you free is in the galaxy’s best interests,” Shepard said with a scowl.

“ _The war that…sent us to silence…was filled with discordance. Songs…the color of oily shadows. A tone from space…hushed one voice after another. It forced the singers to resonate with its own…sour…note. We wish only...to teach harmony…to our children._ ”

Wrex spat. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I’m already fighting one war,” Shepard replied. “I can’t afford a second. I’m sorry.”

“Shepard, _please_.”

He closed his eyes at the sound of Liara’s voice.

“She’s a prisoner in a cage, tortured and manipulated. Her children were _stolen_ and used as slaves! If we kill her we’re no better than…than them.” Her voice stumbled on the last words, and Shepard had to force himself to look into her blue irises, naked with grief. His chest tightened.

“I can’t afford to make choices based on empathy.”

“Isn’t that kind of thinking what lead Saren astray?”

The accusation cut Shepard like a whip, so deep he actually recoiled as though he’d been struck. His throat went dry, the memory of standing before Anderson’s damning gaze right after Torfan suddenly so vivid he could smell the astringent in the Captain’s aftershave.

_Their deaths are on your head. Can you live with that?_

The look on Liara’s face bore the same judgment, the same bitter disappointment.

His answer to Anderson had been yes. He would put those lives on his head, with the knowledge that thousands more would be saved the torment he’d had to endure.

Letting the rachni queen go might be no different. Sparing one life only to condemn thousands, maybe _millions_ , if they rose from the ashes to wage another war. But it was a big if, a future impossible to anticipate here, now, in this room.

The batarians had never sued for peace. Even if they had, Shepard doubted he would have granted it. Not with the river of blood they’d cut in their wake. But if that was the measure by which he cast his judgment, he should condemn the rachni right alongside them.

Anderson would let her go.

_Anderson was not a Spectre._

His gaze fell on the control panel.

But Saren _was._ Regardless of what he was now, at the beginning he’d walked the same path Shepard walked now. Saren had done the dirty work so others wouldn’t have to, just as Shepard had on Torfan. Just as his instincts told him to do now. In the darkest parts of his heart he’d often wondered just how long a person could go on being the Butcher of Torfan before the lines began to blur a little too much.

At what point did you look in the mirror and realize you no longer had a soul?

Slowly, he turned towards the rachni queen, striding towards her cell until his nose nearly touched the glass. “If I let you live, and you make any, I mean _any_ aggressive move towards other races, I will bring the wrath of the heavens down upon your head and crush you into dust. Do you understand?”

Behind him, the asari thrall bobbled, arms swaying lifelessly. “ _We understand_.”

“Shepard,” Wrex warned.

He cut the krogan off with an angry swipe of his hand. “I’ll set you free, find you a ship, but from there you’re on your own. Disappear.”

“ _We will…remember. We will sing…of your forgiveness to our children_.”

Shepard’s eyes swept over the lab, the dead commandos, his battered team, Liara still crouched beside the body of her mother.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

~

Ashley stretched, trying to find a way to position herself on the turian-designed cot so that the muscles in her neck didn’t scream so loud. She’d never taken into account the engineering other species might put into a bed to accommodate skull crests and back jointed legs, but she had a whole new appreciation for Garrus. She didn’t know how the turian got any sleep on the _Normandy_. When— _if—_ they got out of here, she might order him something flashy from the Citadel just because.

They’d been in a holding cell for nearly eighteen hours. The head of Port Hanshan Security, Captain Mastuo, seemed like a reasonable woman, but the fact remained that Ashley and Tali had been caught red-handed standing over the bodies of four cops. Matsuo hadn’t liked that very much.

Right after getting tossed in their cell, Gianna Parisini, the graceful, dark-skinned woman who was in a way responsible for this mess, had managed to convince the guard to step out long enough to ask if they’d been successful. Ashley had nearly _murdered_ Tali when she’d just _handed over_ the OSD, until the quarian informed her that the data was encrypted.

“I’m the only one who can crack it,” she said with a level of confidence Ashley hoped like hell was justified. “And until we’re released, I have no plans to do so.”

Parisini had scowled, sighed, then nodded. “Sit tight.”

They’d sat tight for eighteen hours. At least she’d been allowed to exchange her armor for a pair of fatigues. The only thing worse than trying to relax on the turian cot would be doing it in her bulky hardsuit. Aside from the occasional guard who poked their head in to provide food and water and to make sure they hadn’t gone anywhere, they hadn’t seen anyone. Ashley didn’t know how much longer she could ‘sit tight.’

Tali hadn’t bothered in the first place, opting to pace and fret to the point where Ashley’s nerves were about to snap.

“You know there’s _nothing_ we can do until Shepard gets back, right? They aren’t going to listen. And they definitely aren’t going to care.”   

She said nothing about the possibility that Shepard _wouldn’t_ come back.

“I’m sorry,” Tali snapped. “I’ve never been arrested before.”

“Just think of the story you’ll be able to tell people, then.”

“I can’t believe you find this amusing.”

Ashley sat up with a sigh. “I _don’t_. You think an arrest record gets you anywhere in the marines? Which, I might add, is the least of our worries. Corrupt cops aren’t necessarily bound by due process.”

That at least got the quarian to pause, though her anxiety ramped up a few more notches.

“They won’t touch us before Shepard comes back,” Ashley assured her. “He’s a Spectre. They aren’t going to risk pissing him off. And besides, I think this Parisini person is actually on our side.”

Tali planted her hands on her hips. “And what makes you think they won’t just launch the antimatter warhead to make sure he _doesn’t_ come back?”

Okay. That one _hadn’t_ occurred to her.

They both fell silent, and dammit, now Ashley wanted to pace.

She couldn’t help but wonder if Alenko would have wound up in this position. Her first reaction had been to come out guns blazing, and it irked her to no end to wonder if the lieutenant would have found another way. Would he have noticed Stirling was a biotic? Probably, the observant bastard. Knowing him he would have struck up some chummy conversation with her, bonded over their amp preferences. If he’d been the one stuck with this mission, instead of rotting in a holding cell he would probably be strolling the plaza, checking the weather, keeping a wary eye on the inoperative trams and the elevator to the garage, in case Benezia escaped Peak 15 and wanted off Noveria.

“Why us,” she muttered, unaware she’d even spoken out loud until she saw Tali looking at her, the narrow, golden slits of her eyes gleaming through her faceplate.

“I’ve…been wondering the same thing myself,” the quarian admitted. “I keep thinking that Garrus could have talked his way out. Done a better job of covering his tracks. Something.”

Ashley threw up a hand. “I _know!_ Alenko probably could have made that bitch _laugh_.”

A small laugh echoed through Tali’s vocal emitters. The two of them looked at each other for a moment. A smile spread across Ashley’s face, and though she couldn’t see it, she was _positive_ Tali was smiling too.

“You know, if Alenko shows up and sees me in here, I’m never going to live it down.”

Tali scoffed. “He wouldn’t do that. Would he?”

“Oh, not you. With you he’d probably apologize, like it was somehow his fault. With me I’m pretty sure he’d put out an ad on the Alliance News Network just to make sure everyone knew.” She wrinkled her nose.

Tali sat down on the second cot and drew her knees to her chest. “You like him, don’t you?”

“What?”

“Lieutenant Alenko.”

Ashley froze, a wash of heat rushing up her back to accompany the flip flop in her stomach. How the—was it _that_ transparent? She didn’t think so. Hell, _Ashley_ hadn’t even known it until the night before, not really. Or if she had, she’d been too dumb to see it.

“Yeah,” she said slowly, scowling at her feet. “That gets…tricky.”

The admission alone felt like a confession to a crime, though she supposed there wasn’t much point in denying it. Especially if they were about to be assassinated as part of a political cover up.

“Why, because he’s military?” Tali leaned forward. “Or does he not feel the same way?”

“Um, both I guess?”

“I bet he _does._ ”

Ashley’s wrinkled her nose. “And why would you say that?”

Tali sighed happily and leaned her head back against the wall. “That’s just how these things work. Like Centicus and Valana.”

_“Who?”_

“Fleet and Flotilla! Haven’t you seen it?”

Now it was Ashley’s turn to laugh. “I have no idea what that is, but apparently you and Dr. Chakwas have something in common.”

Tali sat up and planted her feet on the ground, hands clapping together in excitement. “Don’t know what it is? Ashley, it’s the _best_ entertainment vid on the extranet! A turian general and a quarian captain – never _meant_ to be together, but love cannot keep them apart!”

“Oh my _God_ , you’re a romantic.”

“When we get back to the _Normandy_ , we’re going to watch it.”

Ashley groaned and put her head in her hands. “Oh, please no.”

“Have you told him? Asked him how he feels?”

“No!” she yelped. “This is kind of…new. I guess. And weird. Alenko is not exactly the type of guy I usually go for. And no matter what your little soap opera says, the Alliance does in fact have regs against fraternization. I’m not exactly the world’s best ‘by-the-book’ soldier, but that one is definitely there for a reason. Not sure Shepard would be thrilled if we broke it.”

Tali shifted on the cot, shoulders hunching just slightly. “I won’t argue that. The ship comes first. The mission comes first. But let me ask you something. We’re up against something that’s bigger than anything the galaxy has faced before. We’re in a fight for our _lives_. Is it so bad to have something to fight for?”

Ashley exhaled nervously, vaguely wondering how in the hell their conversation had managed to steer its way here. “You say that like he’s my soul mate. I just like that he makes me laugh.” She paused. “And ok. I’ll admit. He’s got a nice ass.”

The quarian lowered her chin. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“And how is _that?”_

“Like he hopes you don’t notice he can’t stop staring.”

She felt a flush building at the back of her neck, threatening to spread across her face. “Ok, um. Can we please talk about something else?”

Tali shrugged.

Ashley scowled. “I had no idea you were such a gossip.”

“Sorry,” Tali said, with genuine contriteness. “Humans are just so much more _private_ than quarians are. We’re used to being in everybody’s business. To tell the truth, being on the _Normandy_ has been a little…lonely. I don’t know all the faces, all the comm lines are closed, even sleeping is more isolated!”

“You mean the sleeper pods?”

Tali nodded. “On the Flotilla everyone has communal quarters. Always someone to talk to at the end of the day. It helped me fall asleep, to tell the truth.”

It hadn’t really occurred to Ashley before how… _alien_ the _Normandy_ might seem to people like Tali, Garrus and Wrex. She thought about the turian cot and grimaced a little. “I imagine that’s a lot of new customs and protocols to get used to.”

“It’s part of what the pilgrimage is all about, I guess,” she said with a mild shrug. “We all look at it as a way to prove ourselves to the fleet, but really I think the point of it is to learn. Experience the galaxy. When you’re part of the Migrant Fleet you don’t get to see much outside our own way of life.”

Ashley nodded absently. “Well…I’m glad you came, Tali.”

Again she could feel the ghost of a smile, even if she couldn’t see it. “Thanks.”

“Tell you what. Whatever this Fleet and Flotilla thing this is? I’ll watch it with you.”

The quarian sat up, ramrod straight. “Really?”

Ashley laughed. “Yeah, sure. Why the hell not. But first you have to tell me what the hell it’s about.”

They were knee-deep in conversation when someone on the other side of the kinetic barrier cleared his throat. Ashley glanced up in surprise to see Alenko standing there, helmet in hand, eyebrow raised, lips curved in a scant smile.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

She scrambled to her feet, remembering just before she tried to hug him that there was a kinetic barrier between them. “Oh, thank God. You’re back. Everyone ok?”

His expression tightened, and that was when she noticed the smile hadn’t come anywhere near his eyes. Splashes of dried purple blood coated his chestplate, jagged-edged scours crisscrossed his shoulders. The _smell_. An acrid whiff of burnt hair stung her nose. Her eyes widened a little.

“More or less,” he said. “We’re back, anyway. Shepard’s curious how the two of you wound up getting arrested?”

“I _told_ him that without him around to shove his Spectre authority in someone’s face this was a bad idea,” she informed him, wishing she had access to her HUD to evaluate his suit vitals. He _looked_ okay, but she found herself wanting the extra reassurance. “I can’t help it if I was right.”

Alenko chuckled, the mirth again not reaching his eyes. “Yeah, well, he’s over in the Administrator’s office right now knocking heads and doing some yelling.” He exhaled. “They picked a lousy time to try his patience.”

“That bad?”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

She pulled her eyes away from his battered armor and glanced at the lock panel. “So are you here to get us out or just stand there and laugh?”

“I don’t know, I’m weighing my options.”

Tali snickered. Ashley crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t believe you two got arrested.” Alenko reached for the door lock and the kinetic barrier keeping them inside dissipated with a shimmer. “Shepard needs Tali to bring the encryption codes for the data you, uh, stole. He’s with the Administrator, the turian, Ms. Parisini and the security captain. I don’t know exactly who’s getting their asses handed to them right now, but when I left it was mostly the Administrator.”

“Do I get to go back to the _Normandy_?” Ashley asked, bracing herself for the answer.

“Yes,” Alenko said, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Under my escort.”

Ashley tapped her fingers against her arm, scowling. “This is karma, isn’t it?”

“God, I hope so.”

She stepped outside of her cell. “Okay. Fine. Escort me. Gloat. Let’s get it over with.”

He gestured towards the door, where an ERCS guard glowered at them, one hand on a pistol. For a moment she considered jumping at him and saying _boo_ , then figured she shouldn’t tempt her luck.

Once they returned to the plaza, Tali drew in a deep breath and headed for the Administrator’s office. Ashley could hear Shepard’s angry shouting from here, echoing off the granite walls.

“Wish me luck,” the quarian said, then strode into the lion’s den, shoulders straight and chin held high.

“I like her,” Ashley commented.

Alenko nodded in agreement. “I always thought I was a pretty good technician. But she’s on a whole other level.”

To her surprise he took her by the arm and began steering her towards the docking bay.

“What, _really_? You’re actually going to escort me?”

“Orders are orders.”

She rolled her eyes, but found herself wondering what his hands would feel like without the cold bulk of his gauntlets, if they were calloused or smooth, gentle or rough, how they might—.

_Stop it._   

“You look like hell, Alenko,” she said as they walked through the plaza, past the shops and on towards the elevator to the docking bay.

“Thanks.”

“What happened? Did you find Benezia?”

His expression tightened, mouth twisting into a grimace. “Yes.”

“And?”

“She’s dead.”

Ashley muttered a curse under her breath. “How’d Liara take it?”

“’Bout as well as you’d expect.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wish I could have been there.”

He glanced at her, the deflated, haunted look in his eyes tempering with something warm, maybe even longing, that sent a rush of heat prickling at her skin. “Yeah…me too.”

~

The sight of the salarian Administrator in handcuffs was small consolation for the events of the day, but it was one problem that at least got solved with some measure of satisfaction. Shepard could not think of a single place he wanted to be less than Anoleis’ office, unless it was back in the secure labs of Peak 15.

Giana Parisini, on the other hands, wore a broad smile that only got bigger as she vigorously shook Lorik Qu’iin’s hand.

“The Board is going to think very highly of you for this,” she assured him, then lowered her voice a little. “Between you and me, there are a lot of people who wanted to see Anoleis go down in flames.”

Qu’iin’s subvocals thrummed. “I certainly hope the NDC plans to demonstrate their gratitude by more than an unofficial offering of thanks.”

“Of course. We’ll have to discuss—”

“I hate to interrupt,” Shepard said, “but I need to get back to my ship.”

“Of course, Shepard. Appreciate the help.

Shepard glanced at Tali, who stood silently behind him. Since presenting what they needed, she had faded into the background, hoping not to draw any more notice to herself than absolutely necessary.  “I want your assurance that the incident with Synthetic Insights will be purged from the system. My people were acting under my orders.”

Parisini nodded. The almost playful spark in her green eyes only marginally improved his mood. “We had a deal. Your team was about as subtle as you are, but they got the job done. Nice work. You have a friend here on Noveria, Commander. I owe you a beer. If I can ever be of help in the future…”

“Thank you,” Shepard replied. “The Binary Helix survivors need assistance with evacuation. Are the trams back up and running?”

“In a few hours. You have my word we’ll get them out safely as soon as possible.”

He took in the efficient sweep of her hair, the perfectly tailored dress, the painted fingernails that didn’t have so much as a blemish. Parisini was a woman who got things done, and got them done right. “Good. I do have one favor to ask.” He paused, drumming his fingers on the helmet he held in his hands, trying to gauge just how sincere she was.

“Name it.”

“I need a ship.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong with yours?”

“No. I need a frigate. Nothing flashy, but something suitable for deep space. It needs to be dropped off at the coordinates I provide…no questions asked.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That’s…a lot to ask, Commander.”

He stepped closer and put one hand on her arm, leaning in close so Qu’iin could not overhear. “Say nothing to Binary Helix, do you understand?”

She searched his eyes for a moment, the satisfaction in her face retreating in favor of something hard and calculating. Shepard hid a smile. Under different circumstances, he could see them getting along quite well.

“You’re tough to turn down, Shepard. Fine. You’ll have your ship. I better not regret it later.”

“You won’t.”

Whether that would turn out to be a lie remained to be seen. As Parisini and Qu’iin resumed their conversation he turned again to Tali, who tilted her head expectantly. A flash of guilt raced through him. He shouldn’t have put this on her and Williams. Under normal circumstances he would have left an officer behind, or done it himself.

But if given the chance, he wouldn’t have done it differently.

“Thanks, Tali,” he said. “I put you in a tough spot. You came through.”

Her posture brightened a little, and her hands, fidgeting behind her back a moment ago, came to rest comfortably at her sides. “You’re welcome, Commander.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I knew you wouldn’t leave us sitting in that cell.”

In spite of himself, Shepard smiled. “Ready to get off this iceberg?”

“Yes, _sir.”_

~

Joker already had the engines humming with preflight checks when Shepard came through the airlock. Pressly hadn’t given an order, but the general mood of the ground team as they trickled back on board hinted that a swift departure would be preferable to waiting around and cooling their heels.

At least they wouldn’t be able to say he hadn’t contributed something to the mission, even if it only meant driving the getaway vehicle.

“Good to see you in one piece, sir,” he called over his shoulder when he heard the commander’s boots on the CIC hallway. His Titan armor rattled the deckplates a lot harder than the Onyx.

“How fast can we get out of here?” Shepard replied.

Joker opened his mouth for a smartass reply, then swallowed it when he saw the look on Shepard’s face.

Granted, no one who’d been to Peak 15 had returned with a smile, except possibly Wrex. The blood smeared all across his and Garrus’ ruined armor had nearly given him a heart attack, but at least in the case of Wrex, his injuries hadn’t dampened his enthusiasm. And if the bloodthirsty battlemaster was the only one happy, Joker had to assume whatever had happened at Peak 15 involved a rather hefty body count. Shepard’s expression was tense and drawn, the mask he usually wore in front of his crew and whatever sea of bureaucracy inevitably washed his way slipping just enough that Joker could see things were amiss.   

“Depends on how close we run things to the book,” he said.

“Screw the book.”

“Those are my _favorite_ words. What’s the destination?”

“Pick one. Then find a comm buoy and patch me through to the Council.”

Shepard disappeared as abruptly he had come, passing Pressly in the hallway, who flattened himself against the haptic terminals to allow him room.

“Wherever we go, he’s always in a hurry to leave,” Joker commented when the navigator reached the cockpit. “With that kind of charm, I can’t imagine why.”

They both looked back to see the commander skirt the galaxy map, Dubyansky and Pakti frantically leaping out of his way much as Pressly had to keep from being mowed over. Shepard offered them a distracted nod as he disappeared from sight of the cockpit on his way to the stairwell. 

“Pretty sure if you had to go up against an asari matriarch you wouldn’t be in a good mood, either,” Pressly said.

“And rachni, apparently.”

The navigator nearly choked. “Rachni?”

“You didn’t hear Wrex singing about it? He has such a lovely voice.”

Pressly scratched at his ear, still gazing down the hallway. “Singing krogan. Rachni. Alliance marines getting thrown in the brig. This is a report I’ll actually look forward to reading. What are our orders?”

“To get the hell out of here.” Joker gestured at the nav console. “Galaxy’s ours. Anywhere you’d like to visit?”

“Someplace warm.”

Joker sighed wistfully. “Think he’d be pissed if I set course for Illium? I bet some asari could warm us up.”   

After a long silence he realized Pressly was staring at him. “Really, Joker? You’re making asari jokes _now_?”

“Yeah, I’m not letting Saren affect my sense of humor.”

Pressly snorted. “Is that what it was.”

A message popped up on his nav console from the Noveria docking authority. Joker clapped his hands together. “Excellent. This is where I get to tell them to fuck off, we have a Spectre on board and he wants to leave, right now.” His fingers worked nimbly over the keys as Pressly slid into the seat beside him, pulling up star charts and plotting a destination. When the coordinates fed across Joker’s display he sent notifications to the corresponding mass relay and started calculating the necessary burn vectors. Hawking Eta it was.

“Pressly,” Joker said after a moment. “What was that call that came in for you a little while ago? The one you told me to butt out and mind my own business?”

The navigator eyed him with a look Joker had come to nickname the Knitted Sweater Vest Look, because it reminded him of his grandfather when he complained about ‘those damned bird aliens.’

“It’s not your business,” Pressly snapped.

“Come _on_.”

_“SSV Normandy, this is Noveria Docking Authority. We have processed your departure clearance. Please stand by.”_

Joker tapped the comm. “Roger, tower. Maneuvering thrusters online.”  The ship buffeted gently against the docking clamps as the inertial dampeners kicked on.

“Got that atmospheric data handy?” Joker asked. Pressly nodded and swiped at the haptic keys. Moments later the requested data scrawled past his own terminal. Joker whistled. “Look at those air density readouts. Glad we have mass effect fields.”

Pressly grunted his agreement. Over the next few minutes they went over the obligatory checklists, optimizing drive core output for atmospheric travel and preparing for orbital ascent. Once Joker couldn’t stand it anymore he looked back over at Pressly.

“Well?”

The thing about Pressly was that he liked to talk. You just had to know how to get it out of him, or if you were Joker, annoy him until he gave in.

“It was Captain Anderson,” he admitted after some wheedling Joker wasn’t entirely proud of.

“Anderson? What did he want?”

Pressly glanced over his shoulder, features twisting to the point that Joker almost asked if he was constipated. “He’s worried about Shepard.”

“Who isn’t.” When Pressly didn’t answer, Joker tossed a hand in the air. “What, he hasn’t been himself since Eden Prime.”

“We knew him for all of five minutes before Eden Prime,” Pressly argued.

_“SSV Normandy this is Noveria Tower Control. Your departure vectors have been received and approved.”_

Joker sent an acknowledgement, then pointed behind him. “You want to tell me that _that_ man doesn’t have issues. He’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders – no, make that the galaxy – plus the memories of a fifty thousand year old genocide rattling around in his head. If there was ever someone who needed an asari hooker, it’s him.”

Pressly grunted. “I wouldn’t mention that to his face.”

“Relax, old man. I like my job. _SSV Normandy_ to Noveria Tower Control. I’ve still got these docking clamps here. Anyone wanna take care of that for me so we can get out of here and stop bothering each other?”

_“Copy that, SSV Normandy. Your departure path is clear. Releasing docking clamps.”_

The ship shuddered as the docking clamps released with a rumble and a whirr. The familiar keen of the ship’s drive core coming to life sent a tingle through his skin. Under his fingers the _Normandy_ slid gracefully out of the docking bay and into the still-raging storm. _Time to slip these planetary bonds and get back to the stars,_ he thought.   

“So what do we do?” Pressly asked.

Joker considered the question for a moment, then shrugged. “We have his back. No matter what.”

Snow pelted the shutters as the _Normandy_ took flight, blurring into white noise as the atmosphere burned away and delivered them once more into the black void of space. 


	34. Epicinium

Garrus winced as Dr. Chakwas ran a dermal regenerator over his forearm. Pale white streaks from the medigel patch she’d removed still stood out against his skin, forming a sharp contrast to the ugly glower of the contusions he’d taken away from Noveria. He felt naked without his armor. Well, he _was_ naked from the waist up, and in front of the human doctor he felt strangely self-conscious. But the fracture in the curve of his bony carapace couldn’t exactly be treated with the hardsuit on, despite his protestations.

Wrex, on the other hand, had no compunctions about shucking off his armor in its entirety and depositing it in a smoldering heap at his feet. Dr. Chakwas had calmly handed him a sheet, with only a slight widening of her eyes and a noticeable spike in her body temperature betraying any sense of horror she may have felt about being trapped in a room with a naked krogan. Wrex had proceeded to wrap the sheet around himself like some kind of toga that didn’t leave nearly enough to the imagination.

Burns from the rachni’s acidic spit crisscrossed the krogan’s scaly arms, face, torso and even his hump where it had eaten through the kinetic padding. Wrex seemed almost reluctant to have them repaired.  

“Stop moving,” Chakwas ordered, a deceptively authoritative tone creeping in to her usual melodic lilt. Garrus stilled, then hissed through his teeth as she made another pass with the regenerator.

“Suck it up, turian.”

Garrus shot him a glare, then swiftly regretted it when the krogan shifted in a way that wasn’t favorable to the sheet. Dubyansky and Pakti were supposedly en route with the spare armor Wrex kept in the cargo bay, but appeared to be taking their time.

Dr. Chakwas gave Garrus a stern glance that very clearly said _don’t move,_ and stepped over the pile of Wrex’s prized Mercenary armor. By the time they’d gotten back to the _Normandy_ even the transponder had been fried, but Dr. Chakwas’ attempts to have it removed and recycled had been rather violently rejected.

“This is victory armor,” he snarled, the sheet slipping dangerously. “It can’t be _discarded_. It should be mounted on a wall as a trophy!”

“Not in my medbay,” the doctor replied, ignoring the sheet as she hooked him up to a bone knitter. Wrex had apparently broken about four ribs sometime after the roof incident but _before_ the asari commandos. And it hadn’t even slowed him down.

Wrex leapt off the bed and pounded a fist against the nearest wall, Dr. Chakwas frantically chasing the bone knitter that nearly went with him. “If it cannot be hung, it should be _burned!”_

Garrus’ mandibles fluttered. “I thought the vorcha were the ones who liked fire.”

The krogan growled, but the glint in his eyes seemed more celebratory than lethal.

“Sit _down_ ,” Dr. Chakwas ordered, grabbing his arm and jerking him towards the medical bed. Garrus braced himself for the inevitable retaliation, but it never came, perhaps making Dr. Chakwas the only person to ever physically order a krogan around and emerge without a dislocated shoulder.

“I’m having enough trouble programming the knitter to be compatible with your bone density and cell structure,” she scolded him, showing zero interest in Wrex’s agitation. “If you keep moving around you’ll wind up with incompatible osseous tissue and these fractures will _not heal_.”

Wrex’s lip curled, rippling with a low growl. Dr. Chakwas planted her hands on her hips. A nervous thrum echoed from Garrus’ subvocals.

A laugh ripped from the krogan’s throat, and he sat back on the bed.  Garrus rubbed at the burn on his arm Dr. Chakwas had been working on, earning disapproving eyebrow as the silver-fringed doctor reached for the antiseptic a third time.

Garrus’ plates tightened. Damn humans and their eyebrows. It had the equivalent effect of being lectured by his mother. “It’s a _burn_ , doctor. I can’t help that it’s painful.”

“Grow a quad!” Wrex bellowed, catching the bone knitter with an errant hand. This time Chakwas was ready, smacking it back in place. “We conquered the best Saren had to throw at us! The blood enemies of my ancestors rose from the grave and we ground them to dust and spat on their corpses. Your wounds are the mark of a warrior!”

Chakwas said nothing, merely hefted a dermal injector loaded with a sedative and brandished it like a sword.

Wrex chortled, then glanced from the imperturbable green stare of Dr. Chakwas to the battered bone knitter. “You do good work, human. When this is done, the turian and I plan to celebrate.”

Garrus’ mandibles flared in alarm. “Wait, we do?”

“You should _join_ us!”

The corner of Dr. Chakwas’ mouth turned up in a smile. “I do appreciate the invitation. However I have a few more patients to see after I’m done with you two.”

“I think that’s her subtle way of asking you to kindly leave her medbay intact,” Garrus informed him. “And I don’t know about you, Wrex, but if that woman’s patience ever cracks I think she’d be more dangerous than you are.”

“Why, thank you, Garrus. Now, Wrex? Don’t _move._ ” She switched the bone knitter on, eliciting a roar of pain.

“ _I will burn this medbay to the ground!_ ”

“ _After_ I’m finished!”

The medbay door swished open to reveal a wary Lt. Alenko on the other side, with one hand on his sidearm.

“Is…everything ok in here?”

Dr. Chakwas gestured. “Assistance restraining Wrex until this knit cycle completes would be much appreciated.”

Alenko’s eyes fell on the mostly naked krogan, and his skin paled. “Wait, what—”

Wrex snarled, and Garrus’ subvocals reverberated with laughter.

“Poor bastard. And you thought it couldn’t get worse than rachni.”                

~

Shepard could hear the sounds of the uproar taking place in the medbay even from his quarters. It brought a brief smile to his face. Victory celebrations on Tuchanka were likely something to behold.

But to Shepard, little about it felt like a victory. He gazed down at the finished report in his hands.  The last thing he wanted to do was talk to the Council, but he could only put it off as long as he could delay the paperwork. Once the report had been filed they would want to hear from him.

Freeing the rachni and murdering a prominent asari Matriarch. That should make for pleasant conversation. He sighed and tossed the datapad on his desk.

They had gotten what they came for. Or gotten something, anyway. But the feeling that the mission had ultimately been a failure gnawed at him. 

_Isn’t that the kind of thinking that lead Saren astray?_

Shepard planted his hands on the desk and stared down at its glassy surface, his reflection glaring back up at him. At what point had it happened to the turian? Did Saren even know?

Shepard thought he might.

Of the litany of crimes the former spectre had committed, the one that stood out to him wasn’t his betrayal of the Council. The destruction of Eden Prime. Even his apparent alliance with the reapers. It was the murder of Nihlus.

Shepard had poured over the records of both turians with a fine-toothed comb, memorizing every detail, looking for hints, clues, anything that would help him. Saren, it appeared, had been the primary endorser for Nihlus’ admittance into the Spectres. Their paths had intersected often, one always for the betterment to the other. In fact, Nihlus was the _only_ other name that ever appeared in Saren’s dealings.

Yet Saren had shot him in the back of the head.

Somewhere along the way, Saren’s mind had rewritten his friends into enemies. Had it been an abrupt change, or a slow downward spiral into some kind of unrecognizable hell? Did he know and not care? Did he somehow feel that he didn’t have a choice? 

_Isn’t that the kind of thinking that lead Saren astray?_

Liara’s voice, so laden with accusation, made him almost physically ill.  He put a hand to his head and closed his eyes, letting the memory of her brush through his mind like a caress. With Shiala, the meld had been about nothing more than an exchange of information. Academic. But he could not pretend it had been that simple with Liara.

The vision from the prothean beacon, so vast, so powerful, had overwhelmed every barrier he had ever erected in his mind. Mindoir, Elysium, Torfan…all of it had been swept up in one churning, bloody tide that she had not only withstood, but helped him piece back together. In those agonizing moments he’d unwittingly laid bare his very soul, and she hadn’t turned away. 

_Isn’t that the kind of thinking that lead Saren astray?_

He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d seen something in his mind that he should truly be afraid of.

With a sudden swipe of his hand he sent the datapad flying, the sound of it clattering against the floor oddly satisfying. At least until the fresh bruising on his ribs screamed as he bent to pick it up. He straightened with a grimace. A few more bullets than he’d realized had found a way through his shields. By morning his chest would be a starburst of purple and blue. One more thing to look forward to.

He looked at the datapad now in his hands and sighed. No sense in putting it off any longer than he had to. Before he could change his mind he strode out of his quarters, nearly plowing into Dubyansky and Pakti on their way to the mess. Both corporals threw up hasty salutes as they hopped out of the way, nearly in unison. Shepard nodded, offered a thin smile, and kept going towards the stairwell. His stomach flipped at the possibility of running into Liara, but she was nowhere to be seen.

It was impossible to miss the sudden quiet in the CIC when he arrived, the casual chatter immediately subduing into hushed whispers. Shepard nodded, offered a few greetings, but did not deviate from his course to the cockpit. Pressly eyed him but didn’t try to stop him. Not yet, anyway. The grizzled XO hadn’t taken long to figure out when Shepard could be waylaid and when it was better to just let him pass. It was a subtle, unspoken understanding that did not go unnoticed.

When he reached the cockpit he slid into the seat to Joker’s right without comment. The pilot glanced over at him as though he’d been expecting his arrival, offering a tilt of his chin and a tug on the brim of his hat.

“I know space is considerably colder than Noveria, but the great black void feels like a tropical getaway after that place,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

“Just wait ‘til I talk to the Council,” Shepard muttered, queuing up the comm systems. “That should bring the temperature down a few notches.”

Joker raised an eyebrow. “What, you think they’re going to be pissed you turned the rachni loose? And here I thought they’d have the welcome mat all rolled out.”

Shepard let out a disgruntled huff as he pinged the nearest comm buoy. After he got a response he uploaded his encrypted report and fired it off, Council priority. 

“I assume you want to be notified once they demand your head on a platter?” Joker asked. “Or should I just tell them you’re conveniently busy?”

“After facing down batarian pirates, the thorian, asari commandos and the rachni, if the Council thinks they’re going to intimidate me they’re sorely mistaken,” Shepard said darkly. “I’m out here to do a job. If they don’t like the way I do things, maybe they should have been a little more concerned about the reapers in the first place.”

Joker chuckled. “I work for one of the only people in the galaxy willing to tell the Council to fuck off. To their face.”

Now Shepard smiled a little, leaning back in the chair, hands folded in his lap as he gazed out at the stars.

“Speaking of the reapers…any idea where our next destination might be?”

“Well,” Shepard said, “We know he wanted the location of the Mu Relay. We just don’t know why. I want to see if the Council can shed any light on what he might be after. In the meantime…we keep our ears open and look for leads.”

“So in other words, we stay on course for Century and proceed with mineral scanning until something interesting happens.”

“Frankly, I wouldn’t mind a few quiet missions that don’t involve being shot or bioticallly smashed against a wall.

“Just remember, Commander. You’re living the dream.”

Shepard rolled his eyes, but made no move to leave. Joker said nothing, merely went about his business making calculations for the relay jump while Shepard watched the stars form small silver peals of light outside the shutters. Somewhere out there in the blur was Mindoir. Earth. He tried not to think about what lurked in the interstitium, and shifted uneasily in his chair.

“So where’s home for you, Joker?”

Joker glanced up, almost as if he’d forgotten the commander was even there. He took a moment to consider the question. “Where my footlocker is.”

Shepard smirked. “That’s probably the most military thing I‘ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”

“Yeah, well.” Joker shrugged. “My parents did a lot of contract work for the Alliance. We didn’t exactly have much in the way of roots.”

Shepard nodded sagely. “I imagine that’s rough, growing up. Military brat without the actual military.”

“Sort of, yeah.” Joker’s glance slid sideways. “I think this is the part where I’m supposed to ask you the same question, but If it’s all right with you sir, I’ll pass on asking you about home right after a mission like Noveria.”

A small smile creased his lips. “I appreciate that. Though I guess people are curious.”

“Curious? Commander, with all due respect you’re an Alliance poster boy. You know that dreamy idealism that makes everyone enlist in the first place? Flying on spaceships, saving the galaxy? That’s _you_. Of course people want to know everything about you. Though I’m going to take a wild guess that between you and Alenko, our resident boyscout is the one who had dreams of getting out here to right all the galaxy’s wrongs.”

Shepard snorted. Joker grinned.

The pilot turned back to his haptic terminal. “You knew how the galaxy really worked before you got out here. I’m betting your motives were a little more…”

“Desperate?”

“I was going to go with simple, but whatever floats your boat.”

Shepard shrugged, drumming his fingers lightly on his knee. “You might be right. I appreciate the…frankness, by the way.”

“I don’t have much use for bullshit, sir.”

“That’s why I like you.”

“I thought it was because I’m a goddamn amazing pilot and the only one who can fly this gorgeous piece of tin the way she was meant to be flown.”

“That, too,” Shepard acknowledged with a nod.

A light flashed on Joker’s console. “Hey, look, Commander. The Council would like to speak with you.”

Shepard muttered under his breath and pushed to his feet. “Put it through to the conference room.”

“Can I listen in?” he pleaded.

“Only because if I give the signal, I want you to cut the transmission. I’m not dealing with this shit any longer than I have to. I have a madman to catch.”

“Yes, _sir._ ”

~

Never had Liara more fervently wished for the quiet and isolation of a dig site, to lose herself in abandoned ruins where her only company was the whispers of a vanished race. They were peaceful, empty, so blissfully removed from the present. On places like Therum, Juntuama, Alrumter…she could breathe. Here on the _Normandy_ a scream had been welling in her throat ever since her return from Peak 15, and she had nowhere to go to release it. Even the Mako was off limits; Tali and Williams were in the process of inspecting and repairing every inch of it after the fiasco with the NDC.

Everywhere she went, invasive eyes followed. Some contained pity, others scorn. _You are the daughter of a traitor_. They knew Benezia as the woman who’d tried to kill their commander. Whatever her sins may have been before that, to the crew of the _Normandy_ that was the one that was truly unforgivable, and nothing she said would ever convince them that the monster they had met was _not_ the woman who had shaped her life. That Benezia had died long before Liara met her on Noveria. The person waiting for them in the lab had merely worn her face like a mask.

But those _eyes_. Those eyes would haunt her for the rest of her life, cold and luminescing with hate as she raised that wall of biotic energy meant to destroy them.

And Liara had done _nothing_.

In the end she not only hadn’t been able to strike Benezia down, but hadn’t even summoned the courage to save their lives. Instead Shepard had been forced to cut her down while Liara watched.

_It should have been you._

Her mother had _known_ she would blink. She’d dropped her barriers, summoned every spare ounce of power she had, and turned it on them, leaving herself vulnerable under the belief that her daughter would not strike. And she’d been right. Liara stood and watched while Shepard had taken her down with nothing more than a pistol.

_You should have been the one to pull the trigger_.

A sob threatened to rise in her throat. She took a deep, ragged breath, clenching and unclenching her fists. Her attempts to sleep in the crew pods had failed. But upon exiting she did not know where to go. The lights on the crew deck were too glaring, too bright, and too many people milled about, some preparing for second shift, others grabbing something to eat from the galley. She needed to get out. But on a ship this small there was nowhere to go.

She sat at the far end of a table, head down, ignoring the looks that shifted her way. Her breathing hitched, tears brimming anew at the corners of her eyes, and she bent her head into her hands. All she needed was a minute. Just one minute. _Breathe._

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. Liara jumped, barely restraining a scream. Mess Sergeant Greico stood over her, shoulders hunched, expression unsure, proffering a mug with steam curling from the rim. Amber liquid sloshed over the sides as he reacted to her start of surprise, a hiss escaping through his teeth as it hit the hand holding the cup.

“Sorry,” he said, hastily wiping the offending moisture with his other hand. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I, uh, thought you might like some tea.”

Her gaze went from him to the cup, now outstretched once more. Tentatively she took it, a strange but soothing scent greeting her nostrils. “Thank you,” she said, voice catching. Her hand trembled, but before she could use her other one to steady it the cup slipped through her fingers, contents hitting the table with a splash, soaking the front of her uniform and burning her skin. She gasped, shooting to her feet, swiping at her lap. Grieco’s eyes went wide, skin paling a little as he stuttered an apology.

It was the apology that got her. It hadn’t been his fault, it had been hers. _All_ of it was her fault. Tears blurred her eyes, and this time she wouldn’t be able to stop them. Not trusting herself to speak, even to reassure him, she pivoted on one foot, not knowing where she was going, not caring, not even _looking_. As long as it was somewhere else.

She didn’t get two steps before running into someone’s chest. Two hands settled on her shoulders.

_Shepard_.

“Liara?”

She looked up to see Alenko’s brown eyes searching her anxiously, concern etched across his features. “Hey. It’s all right. Let’s get you out of here, okay?”

He put a hand to her back and guided her towards the medbay, a slight sting of static electricity passing between them. His fingers were light, shorter than Shepard’s, more hesitant, and he placed them between her shoulders instead of the small of her back, as Shepard had done after Feros.    

She had been so sure it would be Shepard standing there. But then she remembered the look on his face in the labs, when she had all but accused him of becoming Saren, and felt even emptier than she had just a moment ago.

When they reached the doors of the medbay Alenko paused. “Okay, it’s been a little crazy in there, but I think things are somewhat back under control. Just…don’t be alarmed by the shirtless krogan. Well, shirtless _and_ pantsless.”

In spite of herself Liara stared at him, wondering if she’d heard right. He ducked his chin slightly to offer a reassuring glance. “Just trust me, okay?”

She nodded once again, this time unconvinced. 

A weary, somewhat disheveled Dr. Chakwas rose as soon as they entered, fluid stride bringing her to them in an instant.  Garrus sat on one of the beds, a thick bandage on one arm. A mandible quivered at the sight of her, but he said nothing. A snoring krogan lay across from him.

“Oh, good,” Alenko said. “He’s finally out.”

The doctor nodded. “It took twice as much sedative than _any_ of the krogan literature recommended. If he goes into arrest we may just have to depend on his backup heart to kick in.” She turned her attention to Liara, the lines of stress creasing her brow vanishing in an instant. “How can I help?”

The lieutenant nodded towards the back of the room. “Do you think she could take advantage of your office for a little while?”

“Of course,” she replied in her usual smooth cadence. Within a moment her smaller, gentler hand replaced the pressure of Alenko’s on her back. Dr. Chakwas steered her past the med tables through the small door into her office. Liara sat down on the cot still set up beside her desk.

Chakwas pulled her chair out and took a seat, resting her elbows on her knees and looking Liara in the eye.

“You’re welcome to rest here, if you need some time to yourself,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Liara. That kind of thing…shouldn’t happen to anyone.”

Liara drew in a shaky breath. “I knew when I got here this is how it might end.”

“Knowing something doesn’t make it any easier to do. Or experience.”

“No.”

Dr. Chakwas reached out and took her hand, her kind features creasing in a wan smile. A silver strand slipped out from its place behind her ear. “You’re a strong young woman, Liara. You’ll get through this. But there is nothing wrong with crying. Or mourning.”

Liara wiped at her eye. “Even if the woman I mourn for died a monster?”

Chakwas gripped her hand a little tighter. “I’m guessing _that_ is not the person you’re grieving for.”

_(Liara settles her mother’s elegant headdress over her brow, the metal shanks hanging so far below her shoulders she cannot even turn her head. The hood fastened to it tumbles down her back in waves of gold. She straightens proudly, beaming at her mother, trying to imitate her proud, peerless stance._

_“Do I look like you?”_

_Benezia taps her on the nose. “No, Little Wing. You look like you. And that’s even better.”)_

“No,” she said softly.

Dr. Chakwas gave her hand one last squeeze before letting go and getting to her feet. “I’m going to give you something that will help you rest. Take as long as you need. I’ll be right outside if you need me. If you hear a commotion…ignore it. I don’t imagine I’ll be keeping Wrex here long, whether I want to or not.”

Liara offered a half smile that faded almost as soon as the door slid shut. She curled up on the cot, taking the small pillow at its head and clutching it to her chest. A torrent of grief, regret and shame rushed from her body in one, long exhale.

Silence filled her ears, and she closed her eyes.

~

The stern visage of Councilor Tevos did nothing to improve Shepard’s mood. Her graceful features turned down in a scowl that supplanted her usual aura of serenity with one of irritation bordering on distress. Normally unnervingly still, she radiated a nervous, kinetic energy that Shepard felt even through the viewscreen. Councilor Sparatus ground the plates of his jaw, talons drumming on his podium, his inherently sharp features only amplified by his poorly concealed displeasure. Of the three only Valern did not appear agitated; the elderly salarian’s hands clasped loosely in front of him, his wide, black eyes wide and attentive. The salarian’s natural curiosity undoubtedly made the reappearance of the rachni more interesting than threatening, at least for now.

The turian councilor did not share his sentiment.

“Commander, is this report accurate?”

Shepard folded his arms across his chest. “Do you think I would lie?”

Tevos raised a peacekeeping hand. “Please, Commander. You must realize that rachni are an entirely unexpected development. One that demands careful consideration.”

The salarian shifted, eyes blinking. “And you are certain it was rachni? The klixen from Tuchanka can bear a resemblance—”

“Urdnot Wrex confirmed it,” Shepard interrupted.

Valern nodded. “Well, I will trust the judgment of a krogan battlemaster in this matter. Regardless of the galaxy’s history with the rachni, this is a fascinating discovery. For an egg in cryostasis to remain viable after three thousand years is _quite_ remarkable.”

Sparatus made a noise of disgust. “I don’t give a damn about the science. Where is the queen now? She needs to be brought in for questioning. We need to assess this threat for ourselves. You may not be as familiar with interstellar history as we are, but—”

“I’m quite familiar with history, thanks,” Shepard said. “And I don’t know the location of the queen.”

The turian’s mandibles quivered, and Shepard almost, _almost,_ enjoyed it.

“What do you mean you don’t _know?”_

Shepard gestured with one hand. “It’s in the report. I set her free and left her to her own devices. I arranged for her to get a ship, but I don’t know which one or where it went. I told her that if she left us alone, we’d do her the same courtesy.”

The scrape of Sparatus’ talons across his podiums was audible even over the feed. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done! Why wouldn’t you at least hold her until the Council could assess the situation?”

“Because the NDC had their finger on an antimatter warhead,” Shepard countered. “If they knew what Saren was doing down there they would have launched it without hesitation. The queen isn’t a threat. I made the call and I stand by it. I wasn’t about to let her be destroyed just because someone who wasn’t in the room decided to take matters into their own hands.”

It was a convincing argument, he thought. Perhaps even enough to convince himself.

Tevos placed a hand on Sparatus’ arm, expression calm. “This does not help us,” she said. “What’s done is done. Saren was breeding a rachni army on Noveria. We need to know why, and what he wants with the Mu Relay.”

Valern, who had remained pensive during the heated exchange, put the pad of a round finger to his chin. “I will have to consult our archives to see what systems that relay can access. Presumably his interest is related to the protheans.”

“We can’t assume anything,” Shepard replied. “I need solid leads, not guesses.”

Sparatus lowered his chin. “It’s a shame you killed the best lead we had. Lady Benezia was closer in his counsels than anyone we are aware of. I’m sure she could have provided some helpful insight.”

Something twitched at the corner of Shepard’s eye, and he flexed his fingers in a failed effort to keep from clenching them into fists. “It wasn’t a matter of choice.”

“Bringing along Benezia’s offspring was a mistake,” he continued, the disdain in his voice sending Shepard’s nails digging into his palms. “You forced her hand. Not every scenario you encounter can play out like Torfan, Shepard. Sometimes it requires a little more…finesse.”    

The glower growing on Shepard’s face deepened. “Watch your tone, turian.”

The turian councilor’s eyes flashed. “I am a member of the Council, _human_ , and you will treat me with the respect I deserve!”

“I’m doing the job you chose me to do,” Shepard shot back. “If you’ve got no assistance to offer I don’t have time to debate things that can’t be changed. Benezia is dead. Saren is still out there. Call me when you have something I can use.” He pivoted on his heel.

“Shepard, don’t you dare—”

“Joker, lose this channel.”

The projection of the Council vanished with the turian in mid-shout, the sudden absence of sound ringing loud in Shepard’s ears. He exhaled, shaking fists slowly uncurling. Three thin, red crescents tattooed his palms where his nails had dug into the skin. In his mind he could see Anderson’s disapproving glance, hear the baritone rumble that always preceded a lecture.

He wandered to a chair and sat down, resting his forehead in his hands. _Politics is not your forte,_ the captain had told him. _You can’t bludgeon your way through bureaucracy,_ Parisini had said. Maybe they were right, but he’d be damned if he let the Council jerk him around. If they weren’t going to offer assistance they were useless to him.  

That he may have privately agreed with Sparatus about the rachni was beside the point. The decision had been made, and regardless of whether or not it was the right one made for the right reasons, there was nothing he could do about it now. Not looking back was a lesson he’d learned a long time ago.

With a sigh he shoved back to his feet, but before he made it to the door of the conference room Joker interrupted him over the comm.   

“ _Hey, Commander. Everything all right in there or do I need to send in a fire team_?”

“Fine, Joker,” he replied. “Thanks for the backup.”

“ _You realize we just hung up on the three most powerful people in the galaxy, right?”_

“I can handle the Council.”

“ _Wasn’t worried about you, sir. I’m the one who can’t run.”_

In spite of himself, Shepard laughed. “Then I guess it’s a good thing we’ve got a stealth ship.”

“ _It felt good, though right?”_

Shepard jammed his hands in his pockets. “It felt _great.”_

 

  

       


	35. Scopos

The smell of breakfast brought Kaidan to the mess, where he found Ashley at the table, fork poised over the remnants of an omelet. Pressly poured himself a cup of coffee, muttering something to the mess sergeant, who responded with a dry chuckle. Steam curled up from a frying pan along with the sizzle of eggs. At the sight of Kaidan she grinned and gestured to an open seat. “Greico’s cooking breakfast, but I warn you, I think Shepard made the coffee.”

Kaidan grimaced. “Does it taste like tar? Does a spoon get stuck if you try to stir it?”

She examined her mug. “Yup.”

“Shepard definitely made the coffee.” He yawned. “Morning, Pressly.”

“Alenko,” the navigator said with a nod. “If you’ll pardon me, I’ve got to go down to engineering. Adams found gas deposits on Tharopto. Going to move in and take a closer look, see if there’s anything useful we can salvage.” 

Williams tossed him a serene wave. “Later.”

Kaidan wandered to the coffee maker, poured out the offensive pot and fished out some fresh coffee grounds to get a new one started. Greico had egg substitute and a pile of dehydrated vegetables on the galley counter.

“Omelet?” the mess sergeant asked.

“Oh, God, yes.”

“What do you want in it?”

Kaidan eyed the desiccated vegetables. “They all ultimately taste the same, don’t they?”

Greico shrugged one shoulder, unperturbed. “Yep.”

“Then surprise me.”

He headed back to the table to wait for the coffee, sitting down heavily and arching his back with an audible stretch. Williams watched with amusement.

“Not enough beauty sleep, LT?”

“Rachni are hell on my exquisite complexion.” He turned his head to the side to give her a better look. Williams nearly snorted with laughter, the sound bringing a smile to his own face.

“You’re a regular Adonis, Alenko. Your poster hangs in my sleeper pod.”

He raised his chin and gave her a lofty glance. “I’m honored.”

“You know,” she said, sobering. “All jokes aside, I’ve never been so glad to see your face as I was in that jail cell.”

He cocked a half smile, eyes flicking to the table. “Well, I was your bail ticket. I bet you were glad to see me.”

“You guys had been gone a long time,” she said, dark irises not budging from his face. “First time I’ve really had to wonder about whether you’d come back.”

Kaidan swallowed, not daring to examine that sentence any closer. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

She shook her head. “Rachni. Of all the things you found out there. _Rachni_. I bet that just made your day.”

“At least geth don’t spit,” he concurred, then exhaled. “You should have seen that queen. She was monstrous. How the hell they thought they could keep her locked up like that…”

Greico approached with Kaidan’s omelet, set it on the table with a nod and left. Kaidan stared at the yellow, spongy mass and picked at it listlessly with his fork. Thinking of the carnage they’d left behind in that lab didn’t do his appetite any favors.

“Rough, huh?”

“It was not a pleasant experience, no.”

When he felt Ashley’s hand over his he looked up in surprise. Her fingers were cold, but the touch sent heat rushing through him.

“I’m sorry,” she said simply. “Sorry it sucked. Sorry I wasn’t there.”

“Me too,” he said. She offered him a brief smile, then pulled her hand away. If the brief contact had affected her at all he couldn’t tell. In fact she looked enviably relaxed, leaning her elbows lazily on the table and propping her chin in her hands while Kaidan tried to unknot the sudden ropes of tension coiled between his shoulder blades.

“How bad was it with Benezia?” she prodded. “Shepard kept that part of the report a little…vague.”

“I…really thought for a second there we were going to talk her down,” he said, letting out a frustrated sigh. “We were so close. Or maybe not. Maybe we never had a chance.”

“How’s Liara?”

“She’s—” He hesitated, unable to prevent the sudden dart of his eyes, the subtle surprise that crossed his face at the question.

Williams raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I…sorry. I didn’t expect you to ask.”

“Ask about Liara?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Dismay swept through him. _Fix it, fix it, before you drive the train right off the tracks._ “Well, I just didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think I’d ask if she’s ok after seeing her mother get murdered because we’re not best friends? Because I didn’t automatically trust her with the keys of the ship like everyone else?”

“No!” he squawked. “Of course not, I—”

Her arms folded over her chest like a shield generator coming online, and he wished fervently for a hull breech to open up under his feet and suck him out into space. She pulled her shoulders back until they formed a defiant wall, the hard glint in her eye the one she usually reserved for the person on the wrong end of her assault rifle. Not a friend. And certainly not him.

“I thought you of all people knew me better than that.”

The accusation hit him like whiplash.

“Ash, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

She stood abruptly. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ash, _wait_.”

But she didn’t. He swore, foot catching on the leg of the table as he clamored to his feet, nearly sending his tray and the untouched omelet flying. By the time he reached the elevator she’d already smacked the door seal with the force of a kiloton bomb. Kaidan swore, hands lacing behind his head.

“Everything all right?”

Kaidan jumped, turning to see Shepard standing just outside his quarters, cup of coffee in hand, eyebrow raised in a question.

“Fine,” he said, casting one last frustrated glance at the elevator and lowering his hands. “Just…never mind. I’m an idiot, that’s all. Nothing new.”

Shepard nodded, that shrewd gaze as usual seeing far more than he was comfortable with. “Give her a few minutes to cool off, then talk to her.”

He decided it wasn’t worth arguing, and he damn sure wasn’t going to inquire if the advice came with the understanding Kaidan’s distress wasn’t entirely professional. He’d learned to assume that with Shepard the answer was always yes: he knew.

Shepard took a sip of his coffee, scowled at the cup, then at Kaidan. “Did someone mess with my coffee?”

Kaidan leaned against the bulkhead dividing the elevator from the mess. “You mean make it compatible with human consumption? Yes.”

“Don’t fuck with my coffee, Alenko. This is my ship.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shepard grimaced as he leaned against a wall, one hand shooting protectively to his hip. Kaidan suppressed the urge to comment. Shepard was legendary for avoiding bone knitters, and if there was anything in that hip that needed mending he’d keep a mile away from Chakwas for as long as he could stand it. As though sensing his train of thought Shepard scowled at him, daring him to ask, then changed the subject before Kaidan could take the bait.

“Did you read the mission report?”

Kaidan nodded, trying in vain to see behind Shepard’s inscrutable façade. The report had conveyed nothing but bland, dispassionate facts that whittled the standoff in the lab down to a handful of cold, toneless sentences. _Target isolated in secure labs. Retrieval and interrogation attempts failed. All enemy targets eliminated. No casualties._

  If only the experience had been so impartial. It would be a long time before he forgot the look on Shepard’s face at the sight of Liara kneeling over her mother’s body. Their conversation in the conference room before leaving for Port Hanshan roared in his ears.

_You don’t know that’s how it’s going to end._

_Of course it is,_ Shepard had replied, rank with bitterness that few could probably fathom _. That’s how these things always end. Why should this one be any different? Something horrible has to happen and I get to give the order. If Benezia dies it’s on me, no matter who pulls the trigger._

And he’d been right, of course. That’s how it had ended.

“I heard you hung up on the Council.”

Shepard tested the coffee again and hissed with displeasure. “I don’t have time to deal with people who don’t have anything useful to say.”

“Understood.”  

Shepard shifted his weight again, eyes darting briefly towards the medbay before coming back to focus on the offending beverage in his hand.

“I haven’t seen her,” Kaidan said in response to the unasked question. _Two can play at this game,_ he thought. Sometimes, anyway. Shepard looked up sharply, a defensive glint in his eye. But instead of the retort or rebuke Kaidan expected, Shepard merely grimaced. Took another sip. Grimaced again.

Kaidan cleared his throat. “I, uh, hope I’m not out of line in saying I think she’d probably…appreciate it if you looked in on her. Sir.” And if it _was_ out of line, it would fit in quite well with his day so far.        

The commander eyed him warily, tapping his fingers against the side of his mug.  This time when he looked towards the medbay, he didn’t try to hide it. “If we’re going to talk about Liara, I need better coffee.”

“Do you want to—”

“No.”

A small smile flickered across his face. “Fair enough.”

Shepard pushed off his heel, presumably to go make another pot of terrible coffee, but paused in mid-stride and looked over his shoulder. “I need you and Williams to do a gear inventory today.”

Kaidan groaned. “After I just made a giant ass of myself? Thanks, Shepard.”

“Give her time to cool off, then go talk to her,” Shepard cajoled. “We may not know our next move yet, but when we do I want to be ready. Find out who needs armor. Who needs guns. Requisition it and tell them I want it now. I’m not going up against Saren with a hardsuit that looks like a varren’s playtoy.”

“Or a naked krogan,” Kaidan muttered. The sight of Wrex in the medbay was now permanently burned onto his retinas. 

“A _what_?”

“Nothing. Yes, sir. We’ll get it done. Just…make sure the airlocks are secure.”

“I won’t let her space you, Alenko.”

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t think you’d have a say in the matter.”

Shepard grinned. Kaidan eyed the elevator.

Give her time to cool off. Right.

~

Caroline Grenado came to a halt in front of Tali, who looked up from her drive maintenance scans to see her wave a handful of ration bars.

“I come bearing the breakfast of champions.”

Tali reached up her hands and caught Grenado’s toss.

“It was between gilga berry or amarantin spice,” Grenado said. “I figured you wanted the amarantin spice.”

“Oh, thank you,” Tali said with a grateful sigh. “I’m not sure which is worse, drive core systems maintenance or gilga flavored ration bars. I’d almost rather eat levo.”

Grenado glanced around with a conspiratorial expression. “Tanaka was curious about how the levo bars tasted. So while you all were on Noveria he snagged one out of the mess and tried it.”

Tali glanced at Serviceman Tanaka, bent over an open diagnostic panel and completely oblivious to their whispering. “What happened?”

“Puked for _hours.”_          

She stifled a giggle. Grenado pulled up a haptic interface while Tali fed the ration bar through her suit filters, grinding it into a paste she could safely consume. The young engineer smoothed a few loose strands of hair – blonde today, with hints of purple when she stood in the light – behind her ear. Tali _envied_ her hair. Short but thick, falling just right to compliment her round face, and constantly a different color. Much to Adams’ chagrin.

“I like the purple,” she commented, restraining herself from reaching out to touch it.

Grenado grinned and raked her fingers through it. “Thanks! Adams about had a hemorrhage. Says it isn’t proper decorum for an officer.” She rolled her eyes, but there was no rancor in it.

Despite Adams’ constant hand wringing over his engineer’s exploitation of dress code boundaries, Tali knew for a fact Adams had personally jumped down the Alliance’s throat when they’d failed to send part of her paycheck home to her family as she’d requested, and even funneled some of his own credits their way to get them by until the problem got sorted out for her. Grenado didn’t know, and Adams didn’t appear inclined to inform her.

“Well, I like it better than the red.”

The engineer flushed happily. “Me, too. Wanna take bets at how long it’ll take before Tanaka complains?”

Tali glanced back at the other engineer, who by now had noticed them whispering and started to scowl. “After what you did to his environmental systems report I’d say he’ll have it filed by the end of the day.”

Grenado snorted. A few days ago they’d rigged Tanaka’s equipment to swap 02 and C02 values on his report, and the surly engineer hadn’t caught it until after it had been submitted. Adams hadn’t been thrilled, but Tali had seen him chuckling to himself when Grenado wasn’t in the room.

“Well, that taught him not to mess with my admin files for the air recyclers.”

Tali tilted her head. “I’m not sure people like him…learn.” She could name a few individuals from the flotilla who fit _that_ mold.

“Maybe not.” Grenado glanced furtively about them, then leaned in to whisper, “Do you think anyone found out about the upload?”

“No,” Tali assured her. “I was careful.”

“I’m worrying maybe that was a little…um, stupid. Harebrained, as my da would say.”

_They didn’t throw you in prison,_ Tali thought sullenly. The little present she and Grenado had prepared for Port Hanshan’s security authorities was a public service, if you asked her. But she hadn’t exactly considered whether or not Shepard would mind. “It’ll be fine,” she insisted, as much to herself as to Grenado. “Shepard won’t be upset.”

“Are you _sure_?”

Tali toyed with the hem of her hood as the last of the ration bar passed through her filters. Well. The more she actually _thought_ about it the less sure she was.

The doors on the far side of engineering opened with a swish, and Grenado’s eyes widened. “Shepard,” she hissed, giving Tali a nudge. Sure enough, Shepard strolled down the ramp towards Adams, shoulders loose, stride fluid, expression amiable. No trace of the Shepard that had been on Port Hanshan remained.

Both engineers turned swiftly to their consoles, Grenado stealing occasional glances at the commander as he lounged against the rail overlooking the drive core and spoke to Adams and Pressly about a probe.

“Relax,” Tali whispered.

“Relax?” The human engineer gave her an incredulous stare. “ _Most_ of us aren’t tech geniuses who mod the commander’s gear and provide ground support on away mission. With a _shotgun_. I have to actually look like I know what I’m doing when he’s around! Especially after last night!”

Tali considered this. After all, the sentiment was a painfully familiar one – she’d been in Grenado’s shoes more times than she could count. When, exactly, had that changed? She glanced at Shepard, who’d finished with Adams and now headed towards her. Grenado made a small strangled sound in her throat and bent feverishly over her haptic interface.

“Commander,” Tali said pleasantly, nudging Grenado with a foot. The engineer swallowed, standing up straight and clenching her hands behind her back. She offered Shepard a meek smile.

“Tali. Grenado.” He nodded at both of them in greeting. “Everything all right down here?”

“Well,” Tali said, hesitating for just a moment until she decided they’d all be better off if she just came out with it. “Last night Grenado and I uncovered a tracking bug the NDC must have uploaded during their…inspection.”

A subtle transformation in posture washed over Shepard, hard gleam entering his eye along with a subtle tightening of every muscle in his body. In barely the space of an eye blink the casual cant of his shoulders shifted into steel. _There_ was the Shepard who had terrified Anoleis in Port Hanshan.

“They did _what_?”

She raised a calming hand as Grenado kneaded her fingers together behind her back. “Don’t worry. We purged it out of the system overnight.”

“Those bureaucratic bastards—”

“ _And_ ,” she continued quickly, “because we thought you would appreciate it, we _may_ have uploaded a little present of our own in return. That exposes Kiara Stirling and her lackeys for their…dereliction of duty. To the NDC investors.”

Beside her, Grenado held her breath.

“You hacked NDC security,” Shepard said dubiously.

“I believe I’d like to think of it has helping them identify some flaws in their system,” Tali replied. She pointed at Grenado. “She found the problem. We…didn’t really think the Alliance would have approved of my solution, so I did the dirty work.”

A brief fountain of anxiety leapt into Tali’s chest. Maybe Grenado had been right, and she’d overstepped her bounds. But the concrete expression on Shepard’s face slowly thawed, a smile creeping across his lips. He nodded at Grenado. “Nice catch.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, offering a hasty salute. “Tali was very careful, sir. To avoid any repercussions with the NDC. Sir.”

Shepard smirked, eyes shifting to Tali as he crossed his arms over his chest. The tension had drained away as quickly as it had come. “I have no doubt. But if they’d spied on my ship I would have found another use for those antimatter warheads.” He nodded towards Grenado. “Good work.”

Grenado beamed.   

 “Caroline!”

Grenado came right back to attention at the sound of Adam’s voice, springing towards him with one last respectful nod to Shepard, who watched her go with an amused smile on his face.

“You make her nervous,” Tali informed him. “She was worried you wouldn’t…approve of our actions.”

“Well, in the future, it wouldn’t hurt to run it by me first.”

Tali ducked her head.

He offered her a smile, a real one that spread all the way to his eyes. “But off the record? I wish I’d been there when they found out.”

“At least they’ll think twice before arresting me again.

Shepard chuckled.

Emboldened, she leaned back against her console. “Is there something I can do for you, Commander?”

“Just getting a feel for things,” he replied. “Did Alenko tell you about your dampening grenade?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t talked to him since we got back. Did it work?”

The grim lines that spread across his face came as such a surprise she almost apologized. He nodded. “It worked. Saved our asses. I owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Shepard.” She offered him a small shrug. “You saved my life.”

A small sigh escaped him as he leaned against the rail beside her, much as he had done with Adams. She did not miss the way he shifted his weight deliberately away from his left hip, or the tiny grimace that passed across his face so quickly she might have imagined it. Apparently Wrex and Garrus were not the only ones who needed time in the medbay.

“We’re a pretty big distraction from your Pilgrimage,” he said, a note of apology in his voice. “But I’m glad you’ve stuck around. We need you.”

“This comes first,” she insisted. “There’s no way I could go back to the flotilla with Saren still out there. Not when I can help. I’m going to see this through, no matter how long it takes.”  

“Thank you, Tali.” Shepard looked briefly down at his boots, an almost faraway smile drifting across his face that she couldn’t interpret.  When he looked back up, his mask was firmly back in place. “And once we’re done. What will you do then?”

She tilted her head to the side. It was a question she’d thought about, certainly, but only as a flight of fancy, a wish that had no weight. Because while she missed home, and couldn’t imagine not going back to it, she no longer laid awake at night listening to the _Normandy’s_ silence _._ “Complete my Pilgrimage, I suppose,” she said finally. “Bring something back to the flotilla that will make my father – and my new captain – proud.”

“And what will that be?”

She kneaded her hands. “That’s…something I’ve wanted to ask you about, actually.” The idea had been brewing since they’d left Feros, but she hadn’t had the need – the _nerve_ – to ask yet.

Shepard shifted his weight slightly, discomfort ghosting across his eyes as he found a more suitable stance. “Ask me what?”

“The geth data,” she blurted out. “Everything we’ve collected from Feros. Therum. It’s…valuable insight into how they’ve adapted and evolved since the war. If my people are ever going to reclaim their homeworld, we need access to that information.”

He held her gaze for a long beat, long enough for her to feel her heart hammer in her chest. He couldn’t see her face, but she had no doubt he saw _her_. Even absent the facial ticks and tells that meant so much to nearly every other species, when he looked through her faceplate he found what he was looking for. Whatever it was.

“I’ll make sure you get a copy,” he said at last. “Take whatever you need. And if that’s not enough, let me know. I’m not above knocking some heads around for a friend.”

A broad smile crept over her face, one she wished he could see. “Thanks, Shepard.”

~

At the sound of footsteps behind her, Ashley grit her teeth and polished her rifle a little harder. When the footsteps halted, she set the casing down on the weapons’ bench a little harder than necessary and leaned her weight heavily on her hands, refusing to turn around. “Back for more already, LT?

“I told him to give you some time to cool off.”

She whirled, sending pieces of the disassembled rifle clattering to the floor, and found Shepard standing behind her. “Sir,” she stammered. “I thought…”

He crossed his arms and leaned against the row of lockers, easy smile on his face. “There’s a lot of people on this ship, Chief. Funny how you assumed it was him.”

With a noncommittal grunt she knelt down to pick up the pieces she’d scattered, wincing at the sight of the internal computer housing lying several feet away. _That’s probably going to need some recalibrating._ Shepard did the same, hissing softly when he knelt down to fish the ammo block out from under the weapons’ bench. Ashley eyes him as he straightened, shifting his weight awkwardly off of one hip.

“Better let the doc take a look at that, sir. Looks like the rachni put you through the ringer, too.” _They put everyone through the ringer, apparently. Except for me. And Tali._ Her sour mood intensified. _And why exactly was that, Shepard?_

“She had her hands full with a krogan,” he grunted as he got back to his feet and handed her the ammo block. “And it’s nothing that won’t heal on its own.”

“If you ask me you’re just avoiding that bone knitter.”

“Who the hell _wouldn’t_?” Shepard said in distaste.

She leaned back against the weapons bench and regarded him with a mild look. “So is coming down here an avoidance tactic, then?”

“Just getting a feel for things,” he replied. “Mako repairs go smoothly?”

_Feel for things_. It was almost as though Shepard made rounds after every mission, picking everyone’s brains without anyone realizing they were being picked. And never, she noted, calling anyone to him. He always sought his crew out somewhere they were comfortable – at the mess table, down here in the cargo bay. Places where they’d be more likely to speak freely, maybe without even realizing it. Feel for things, indeed.

“More or less,” she replied. “Garrus has a few tweaks he insists are vital to the effort that he plans to tackle when Dr. Chakwas gives him the all clear. But if Tali’s happy I tend to think we’re ready to get our murder on again.”

“Hopefully we won’t need to for a while,” Shepard muttered. “Be nice to wind up somewhere and everyone just play nice for once.”

“Don’t count on it, sir. You’re persuasive, but I’m pretty sure Saren is immune to your charming wit.” She patted the assault rifle. “Don’t worry. I’ll have this put back together before we wind up in another hot zone. Assuming you still trust me to watch your back.”

Shepard stilled, his expression turning guarded. “That wasn’t about you, Ashley.”

“Sure,” she said, the sudden surge of bitterness tasting like brine in the back of her throat. “It was about my grandfather surrendering Shanxi to the turians. That’s always what it is. For my father. For me. The Alliance has shat on my family for years, because my grandfather did what he thought was right to save the lives of his men. But it looks bad to historians, so hey. Who cares if we tar and feather a few other folks in the process?”

For a long time Shepard didn’t speak. Then, so soft a chill slipped down her spine, “After all we’ve been through, do you really think so little of me?”

Shame washed through her with a sudden onrush of heat, slithering into her stomach where it curled up and refused to abate.

_I thought you of all people knew me better than that._

Briefly she closed her eyes, fingers curling on the weapons’ bench. “No, sir. I think it has more to do with not knowing my ass from my forehead.”

“And being so angry at things outside your control you lash out at the people who try the hardest to help you?”

“Yeah,” she said, entire body tightening with surprise. “Something like that. Sound familiar?”

“Little bit.” The crease in his forehead loosened, but his arms remained folded neatly across his chest. After a silence that nearly broke her into a sweat, his jaw quirked slightly. “It was about me, Williams. Not you. Can we just leave it at that?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Good. Now. I need you to work with Alenko on gear inventory.”

Her teeth clenched, but all she did was nod. “Yes, sir.”

“Oh, but before that, Joker said to find you and let you know that he’s arranged something for you in the conference room. Said you owed him dinner?”

Her eyes widened. “He did? Now?”

“Well, I don’t know if he meant dinner _now_. Didn’t everyone just have breakfast?”

“Skipper, excuse me, I have to go!” She darted past him, shooting towards the elevator. Finally. Something that might actually go right.


	36. Concupiscentiam

Despite the welcome solitude of the medbay, Liara felt no more rested by the time she emerged. Her eyes felt raw and heavy, as though she’d scrubbed them with a handful of sand. Her feet felt leaden, her stomach cramped and empty. She’d vented her grief until she was too exhausted to think, and in the end nothing had changed. Benezia was still dead. Saren was still out there.

Time to stop grieving and decide what to do.

Her official role with the _Normandy_ was finished, and it had ended in failure. She had not been able to lead them to the conduit. She had not been able to talk down her mother. Even her attempts to help Shepard make sense of the cipher had been met with questionable success. Her knowledge of the protheans, once so important to her, seemed woefully inadequate in the wake of what they were up against, and despite her skill with biotics her lack of weapons training made her a liability. As much as it would pain her, if Shepard no longer had use for her she would not be surprised.   

And she would be lost. The discovery of the reapers had rendered her life’s work irrelevant. The prothean extinction was no longer a mystery but a terror lurking in the present, one that maybe she could do something about. For years she had cared more about the dead than she had the living, and it had cost her _everything_. She could not go back, even if she wanted to. 

Not to mention the simple truth that she didn’t want to go.

Her gaze slid to the door of Shepard’s quarters.

She could not shake him.  So much lay behind the ice blue mirror of his eyes, so much that no one else knew, that she had only glimpsed.

_(We can close it together)_

He’d trusted her with the memory of his pain, his _agony_. Whether it was trust given out of desire or necessity she wasn’t sure, but she was certain it was something he guarded more closely than his life. Giving anyone, _anyone_ , a glimpse at that kind of vulnerability went against everything he stood for. 

And in her grief, she had isolated one of those barbs of insecurity and speared him with it.

_Isn’t that the kind of thinking that lead Saren astray?_

She didn’t even know if it was a fear he had consciously acknowledged, but it had been lurking there in his mind all the same: the possibility that he and Saren were somehow shaped from the same clay. The very thought made her ache.

Leaving him, leaving this ship, was out of the question. She simply had to find a way to prove it. With one last, long glance at Shepard’s door she pivoted sharply on her heel, heading away from the mess and towards the elevator. Since coming aboard the _Normandy_ she’d placed her fate in the hands of others.

Not anymore.

~

Wrex’s shotgun discharged with a boom, simulated slug disintegrating the holographic rachni with a satisfying scatter of light. The krogan’s scaly lips pulled back in a grin as a small tremor of pain ran through his ribs from the kick of the weapon against his shoulder. A small trickle of blood dripped down his chest where he’d ripped the synthetic skin grafted over his rachni burns. The doctor had warned him not to tax the weak dermal attachment, but she underestimated a krogan’s regenerative abilities.

Besides, he enjoyed the pain. Pain let you know you weren’t dead yet.

He programmed the simulation with the quarians’ thermite rounds, reset the target and fired again.  The armor depleted with a fiery hiss, but according to the targeting feedback, the shrapnel didn’t fully penetrate the kinetic padding quite like he’d hoped.

“ _Buchok_ ,” he muttered under his breath.

“Problems?”

Wrex glanced up as Garrus hauled himself out of the Mako’s hold, diagnostic kit gripped in his talons. In the dim room his visor cast a sharp, purple glow.

“The phasic envelope isn’t effective enough. If I can’t kill it before maxing the heat sinks, what good is it?”

Garrus tilted his head. “It worked well enough against the rachni.”

“The rachni didn’t have shields.”

“See if Tali can help.” Garrus dropped to the ground, hissing softy through his teeth and rubbing his left thigh with a talon. He rooted around through a box of tools, selected what he wanted and climbed into the tank once more.

Wrex watched him, eyes narrowed. He’d done well enough on Noveria. For a turian. Not many would have survived the numbers they’d faced. The rachni alone had been formidable. Rachni and asari commandos had been downright _fun_. And though Garrus had complained from the moment the first asari had appeared in the anteroom until the last one fell, he’d calmly and methodically seen to his task, expertly choosing his targets to give Wrex opportunities for CQC where he could do the most damage. Rarely, in fact, had Wrex found himself in battle with a more capable ally.

Not to mention the particular pleasure the turian had taken in killing Alestia Iallis, the asari who had eluded them in the barracks of Peak 15. She’d gotten away from them once, and Garrus hadn’t been about to let her do it again. 

So maybe, just maybe, the kid was coming around.

Wrex pulled up the ammo schematics on his omnitool, red eyes scanning the velocity values, impact force and effectiveness of the thermite coating. He lacked the quarian’s skill with software modification, but when it came to weapons, krogan weren’t as dumb as they looked. He began poking through the code with blunt fingers, looking for possible enhancements. As he worked his ears paid careful attention to light footfalls behind him, padding cautiously across the cargo bay before coming to a hesitant halt within the shadows.

After inputting some minor tweaks he hefted the rifle once more and squeezed the trigger, this time roaring at the searing shock of pain across his chest. The roar dissolved into a deep chortle as he set the rifle down and examined the targeting data. Better. Still room for improvement. But to coax more out of the shot he might actually need to accost the quarian.

“How long are you going to hide back there, Liara,” he asked finally.

He heard the shuffle of footsteps, followed by Liara’s sheepish face appearing to the left of his shoulder. “I didn’t think I was loud enough to disturb you.”

“I hear everything,” he replied. Then, after a pause, “You aren’t disturbing me.”  He reached for the shotgun again. As she watched he reloaded and fired, reloaded and fired, eyes never leaving the barrel of the gun. For a long while she said nothing. Wrex thought he had an inkling of what was on her mind, but rather than prod decided to let her come around to it in her own time. She’d earned that, at least in his eyes. Killing your own blood wasn’t easy.   

When she did finally speak, he wasn’t surprised by the question, even if it deflected from her real purpose.

“Wrex…would you tell me about your father?”

Wrex examined his rifle. Something in the targeting software seemed amiss. The last three shots had been slightly off. “Not much to tell. I wanted a better future for the krogan. He didn’t. I won the battle, but he won the argument. I gave up on my people and moved on. If they’re so dead set on killing themselves, who am I to stop them?”

“What happened?”

Wrex bared his teeth slightly. “We had different ideas about the viability of survival in the face of the genophage. I wanted to unite the clans, focus on breeding. Why spend time and effort on battle and conquest when you aren’t strong enough to hold onto it anyway?”

“That makes sense to me.”

“Of course it does,” he said with a grunt. “You’re a smart girl.”

She flushed.

“But that…approach went against our nature. Krogan like to fight. If we don’t have an enemy we find one in ourselves. I thought I could bring them around to my way of thinking.”

“And you were wrong,” she surmised.

He nodded curtly. “My father brought the clans together for a crush. A meeting. We met in the Hallows, one of the few places my people actually deem sacred. No blood has ever been shed there. All I wanted to do was talk.”

“I take it that’s not what happened,” she said softly.

“No.”

Liara nodded, her gaze wandering elsewhere. Though she said nothing her brow furrowed with deep thought. The slow, careful consideration she gave to the obstacles in her path was one thing he liked about her. It was a refreshing change from his own people.

“Do you ever regret it?” she asked. “Leaving, I mean?”

His lip curled, and for a moment he turned his attention back to the shotgun. The targeting system diagnostic results confirmed his assumptions that a calibration was off somewhere.

“Tuchanka is a radioactive pile of rocks,” he said finally.  “Whatever glory my people had before the salarians uplifted us is long past. The galaxy sees us as primitive heathens hardly better than vorcha. That will never change unless we _make_ it change, and there aren’t enough of us who care. There’s nothing to miss, except things that no longer exist.” A low growl rose up from his throat. “But being here does make me…wonder. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around someone so hell bent on directing the fate of the galaxy that the galaxy actually listens.”

“You mean Shepard,” she said softly. He nodded, watching her out of his periphery. After a moment, he trudged over to the weapons locker and dug around for a pistol, eventually coming away with a Brawler. He ejected the ammo block, instead linking the weapon’s microcomputer to the targeting simulation, and thrust it into her hands.

“Some of the greatest adversaries I’ve ever faced were asari,” he informed her. “And you have more skill than most. But they had one thing you don’t.”

“Aim,” she replied. “I know. That’s why I came.”

Wrex eyed her with cold, careful calculation. “You realize that when it comes to marksmanship, you’re better off talking to Shepard. Or the turian.”

“I would rather Shepard not know. Not yet.” Liara turned the weapon over in her hands. “This must seem so silly to you.”

Wrex raised his shotgun once more and fired, causing the asari to jump. “Your first lesson is to stop giving a damn what someone else thinks. Why do you want to be a better warrior? To please Shepard, or to conquer your enemy and spit on his corpse?”

Her eyes widened a little, but before she could reply the Mako’s hatch opened once more, revealing a turian crest. “Hey, Wrex, have you seen Dubyan—Oh. Liara. How…how are you?”

A blush burned her cheeks. “Fine. I am sorry, I did not know you were here.”

“Hiding from Dr. Chakwas,” Garrus replied, gingerly lifting himself out of the tank once more. “According to her, Wrex and I are not good patients.”

Wrex snorted.

Liara glanced between the two of them. “Perhaps this is not a good time.”

“Time for what?” the turian asked, wiping his hands as he hit the ground and walked towards them, a noticeable hitch in his step.

Wrex nodded towards the pistol. “Liara wants to learn how to kill.”

Garrus replaced his tools, a hum running through his subvocals. “Seems to me she has a pretty good handle on that. I can think of a few rachni who’d agree.”

“With bullets,” the krogan informed him.

“Oh, that.” His mandibles flared slightly, his expression contemplative. He headed for his weapons’ locker. “I think I have a pistol in here somewhere. I might even remember how to fire it.”

Wrex uttered a disgusted sigh. “The one turian in the galaxy who thinks he’s funny.”  He stomped over to the target emitter’s small control console and called up the projection of a geth trooper, disabling movement so it remained stationary, and pointed.

“Kill it.”

Liara drew in a deep breath and held the pistol up, sighting down the barrel to the orb of the geth’s so-called face. 

“Don’t squint,” Wrex told her.

“Lower your elbows,” Garrus offered.

She fired off a round. The gun kicked against her hand and her shoulder jerked in surprise. The shot went wide, missing the target completely and smashing into the surrounding kinetic padding.

“Congratulations,” Wrex gruffed. “Your enemy didn’t even have to dodge.”

“Wrex,” Garrus warned.

“I doubt Saren will coddle her any more than her own mother did,” the krogan replied, and Liara flinched. _Good._ “Again.”

Her grip tightened, corners of her mouth turning down in a scowl. This time her shoulders tensed, anticipating the kick, and she hit the trigger twice more. One bullet hit high and to the left, the hologram rippling around the geth’s shoulder.

“Well,” Garrus said. “That’s a start.”

Wrex narrowed his eyes. “You’re an asari. You depend on stealth and speed to survive. Think slow, act fast. The gun isn’t a tool. It’s an extension of your arm, just like the biotics.”

She gave him a quick glance over her shoulder, surprise on her features. Wrex gruffed.

“What, you think krogan attack blind? I know how you fight because I know how to kill you, and Saren does too.”

Liara nodded, lips pressing together in a thin line of determination. “Wrex, for what it’s worth, I think you would make an impressive leader of your people.”

“That time is long past,” he retorted, and pointed to the target. “Focus on now.”

She fired again. And again, until she rubbed her shoulder and set the gun down in frustration. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be sorry,” he growled. “Win.”

With an unhappy nod she picked the pistol up once more, but before she resumed firing she gave him a pointed, almost accusing look. “That is a sentiment you should consider for yourself, you know.”

A low rumble resonated in his vocal chords and he jabbed an angry finger towards the target.  “Again!”

~

Kaidan scanned the CIC, trying to suppress his irritation. He’d put off the inventory for as long as possible, but now that he couldn’t afford to wait any longer to confront Ashley he couldn’t figure out where the hell she was. While after this morning he would be perfectly happy doing armory inventory on his own, he had no idea which server she’d stored the manifest on.

Pressly gave him nothing more than a distracted shrug as he moved from console to console around the galaxy map, barking orders to the other crew members on duty, anxious for telemetry on a newly launched probe.

Addison Chase passed by as Kaidan thumped a datapad against his thigh in frustration. “Joker called her to the conference room a while ago. Have you checked there?”

“No,” he said, forehead wrinkling in surprise. “Thanks, Chase, I’ll check it out.”

She smiled and continued towards the stairwell as Kaidan swung behind the stanchion between the conference room and the CIC. When the doors parted he heard a peal of laughter that sounded far too much like a giggle to have come from Ashley Williams. But that’s who stood alone in the center of the circular room.

On the viewscreen he saw the image of two girls, both younger than Ashley but bearing an uncanny resemblance. The older one had her rich, brown hair, shorter than Ashley’s but just as thick and unruly, with several strands that had escaped her ponytail loosely framing her face. The second girl, younger, shared her nose, her cheekbones, and most importantly her unrepentant smirk.

That smirk deepened when she spotted Kaidan, and with a snicker she whispered something to Ashley, sneaking a not-so-subtle look in his direction when she was done. The gunnery chief glanced swiftly over her shoulder, but instead of the irritated scowl he expected she gave him an almost guilty, sheepish look.  

The older sister offered Kaidan an innocent smile, which he cautiously returned. If Ashley was any indication, there was nothing innocent about anyone with the last name Williams.

She cleared her throat, turning back to the screen.  “I think the LT barged in here to inform me I need to get my ass back to work,” she said loudly.

The younger sister’s mouth twisted a little. _“When do you get your next leave?”_

Ashley exhaled. “Don’t think you want to know the answer to that question, kiddo. This post is a little different from Eden Prime. But I love you guys, hear me? Tell Abby I’m sorry I missed her. And give Mom a giant hug, okay? Sara, if I find out you dropped that literature class I’ll come all the way back to Earth just to kick your butt.”

Sara, the older sister, heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “ _It’s boring, Ash. Old, dead white guys are boring._ ” 

Ashley planted her hands on her hips, a stance that he had come to recognize meant you were about to learn every single way in which she thought you were wrong, and the list wasn’t short.

“Yeah, well. Shakespeare may be an old, dead white guy, but see if you can write something people still read hundreds of years later.”

“ _Yeah, about guys who are a little too into their own mothers._ ”

Ashley grinned. “You do know he wrote more than just Hamlet, right?”

“ _So you keep saying.”_

“Love you two.”

“ _Love you, too, sis. Remember what I said.”_

All three Williams women directed their gazes towards Kaidan, who straightened in surprise.

“I will,” she said, turning back to the screen.

_“Stay safe.”_

“I always do.”

She reached a tentative hand to the console, allowing it to hover for an extra moment before disconnecting the signal. When the screen went dark she leaned on the console with her hands, shoulders slumping a little as her head dropped and her sides heaved with a quick sigh. When she turned around her expression was carefully blank.

“Sorry,” he said, shuffling his feet a little. “I didn’t mean to, uh, interrupt.”

She folded her arms across her chest, leaning back against the console below the viewscreen with a wary expression.

He shifted his feet some more, back of his neck burning.  “Ash, look, I want to apo—”

She held a hand up. “Alenko. It’s fine.”

“You know I would never—”

“ _Alenko_.” She put a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Right,” he muttered, eyes drifting to her hand. Swiftly she let go and took a step back, clearing her throat.

“So uh, I’m guessing you need me for something.”

Kaidan held up a datapad, unable to shake his feeling of guilt. “Weapons inventory? I can’t find the manifest you made after Therum.” He chuckled. “Figuring out where the hell you store your paperwork is about as easy as getting Joker to even bother with his in the first place.”

She crossed her arms. He braced himself for the inevitable outburst, not trusting their fragile peace, but instead all she did was smirk. “You’re such a control freak. I bet you hang all your shirts according to color and sleeve length, too.”

“And I bet all yours get stuffed in your locker any way they’ll fit.”

“With my drill sergeant? Hell, no, Alenko. You find a wrinkle in my uniform and I’ll clean your pistol for a month.”

“Deal.”

“Easy money. Here.” She turned back to the console and called up the file system used by the cargo bay. “I keep the manifest here. No one actually understands my shorthand, so you probably overlooked it.”

He came up behind her, hesitated, then leaned in to look over her shoulder. He could smell faint traces of her shampoo and caught the scent of coffee still on her breath. When he forced his concentration back to the screen in front of her, he laughed.

“Well, of course I overlooked it. How the hell am I supposed to guess that _sniasshopi_ has anything to do with our arsenal?”

“Snipers, assault rifles, shotguns, pistols,” she recited, casting a quick glance over her shoulder. “In order of quantity on board, from least to most. Who knew so many of us liked shotguns?” At the sight of his bewildered look she nudged him in the chest with her shoulder. “Still think I don’t iron my shirts?”

“No. I think you just have no idea how to save important things where other people can find them. Do I even want to know how you named the armor manifest?”

She put a finger to her chin. “I think I was a little annoyed about getting knocked around on Therum, so I called that one Sirta Foundation Can Bite My Ass.”

“Oh, of _course_. How could I have missed that.” He shifted his weight and bumped her with his knee, muttering an apology under his breath. “So what was your Noveria report? Assuming you’ve done one, that is.”

“Check the timestamp, biotic boy. Pretty sure mine made it in before yours.” She ducked her head. “But I _may_ have called it something along the lines of _I Shot the Sheriff_.”

Kaidan gave her a blank stare.

“Really? You don’t know Bob Marley?”

He shook his head.

She sighed. “Neither did Shepard. He didn’t find it _nearly_ as amusing as I did.”

Kaidan snickered in spite of himself. In his periphery he could see her grin. When she shifted her feet he became acutely aware of how close he was to her. Quickly he took a step back, making an awkward sound in his throat as he did so. For a moment they skimmed the weapons manifest in relative silence.

“You’re cute when you do that, you know.”

He glanced at her in confusion, realized she’d stopped working to watch him. “Do what?”

“Think too hard.” She reached up and gave him a gentle push to the forehead.

He reached up and caught her hand, his irritation at her… _inconsistency_ finally getting the better of him. How the hell could she just act like everything was fine?

“Ash, I really think we should talk about what hap—”

She groaned in frustration. “Why. _Why_ can’t you just leave well enough alone?”

“Because your mixed messages make me paranoid as hell,” he blurted out.

 Her eyes widened in surprise, but not from his outburst. When he followed her gaze he noticed that though he’d had ample opportunity, he hadn’t let go of her hand. His breath caught in his throat. For a split second he saw something in her eyes that made his heart pound.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard a voice whispering, _don’t,_ for a million reasons he’d already rehearsed in his head. It was inappropriate. He was an officer. She was enlisted. And even if that wasn’t the case, the simple fact remained that she just…wasn’t his _type_. She was hotheaded and outspoken, to the point of unabashedly insulting at times. Not to mention indifferent to the consequences of anything she did, assuming they even occurred to her in the first place.

She was the person who wandered the Presidium after being ordered to stay put. The soldier who charged back into the lines of an unknown enemy after watching them slaughter her own men. Who risked her life for people she’d just met, trusted him to diffuse a bomb after knowing him less than an hour.

She was the friend who’d sat with him through a migraine, and laughed even when he wasn’t funny. The woman who would look _damned_ good in a dress, and probably even better out of it. And the one, who what felt like eons ago, had taken him by the arm and dragged him off to a kiosk on the Presidium for a pair of neon green boots.

 _Live a little,_ she’d said.

So he did.     

As if some unseen barrier between them had suddenly snapped their lips crushed together in a sudden rush of heat. He inhaled sharply, the coffee he’d smelled on her breath now running across his tongue. Before he could stop himself he was kissing her back, _emphatically_ , teeth clacking in his hurry to taste more of her, the suddenness of it overriding any caution barring his way.

The moment she started to pull back he tightened his grip on her wrist, tugging her fully into his arms.  Her lips were soft, so much softer than he imagined, though the thought that the caustic comments that regularly fell out of her mouth could somehow affect their texture nearly made him laugh.

Her pulse raced beneath his fingers where they still held her by the wrist. A soft moan vibrated through her throat as she twisted her body to draw his hand to her hip with one hand, fingers of her other sliding across his scalp in a way that set his entire body on fire.

At the sound of his sharp inhale she pulled abruptly away, gasping a little. This close he could see the sudden fear and doubt reflecting off the rich brown of her irises, hand kneading anxiously through his hair.

“Ok,” she said, breathless. “So that—”

_Don’t think. If you think, you’ll stop._

It needed to stop. He knew it needed to stop. But he wasn’t ready.

He hooked a hand around the base of her neck and pulled her back to him, pressing into her mouth until he thought they might both drown. Briefly she stiffened against him, not expecting the aggression.  But she got over her surprise quickly, leaning into him and parting his lips with her tongue. One hand slid its way up his spine, clawing at the fabric of his shirt as he drew her in even closer.

A groan rumbled low in his throat as she broke free to catch her breath. Her eyes were dark and heavy but _smiling_ as she leaned in to kiss him again, her laughter echoing into his mouth and sending a wave of fresh heat rippling through his skin. He ran his hand along the inward curve of her side and back down to her hip, which she thrust against him in a way that was too much, too fast, but the jolt of pleasure that it brought him made it hard to care.

This time he pulled away, turning his lips to the hollow of her neck and kissing up and down until he drew a small keen of delight from her throat.  Both of her hands flew to his back, tugging at his uniform, tentatively at first but then a little more insistently, until the warning bells that had been ringing in his head finally got too loud to ignore.

“Wait,” he breathed, pulling back and catching one of her hands. “Ash—wait.”

 She leaned her forehead against his, breath coming in short, quick gasps. “I think you’re the one who ran past go on this one, LT.”

He chuckled softly, smoothing back an errant strand of her hair with his hand. “You’re…surprisingly hard to resist.”

“Then don’t.”

But when she made to lean towards him again he tightened his grip on her hand, stopping her just before their lips met. She made a frustrated sound that weakened his resolve a little, but not enough.

“Come on, LT. Tell me you haven’t thought about this.”

He took her by the shoulders, thumbs rubbing in gentle circles, wanting nothing more than to say the hell with it. Instead he closed his eyes and exhaled. “Thinking’s not the same as doing.”

“Dammit, Kaidan. Don’t go all officer on me now.”

Now he did back away. Ashley folded her hands snug across her chest and stared at the ground.

“You’re right,” he said. “I’ve thought about it. But this is…fast. Way, way too fast. I’m not...” He sighed. “I’m not the type who does…this. I don’t look for one night stands.”

A hard edge entered her eyes. “And you assume that’s all I’m in for?”

“No,” he said quickly. “ _No._ Or, at least. I hope not. But that’s my point. Before we break regs. Risk the safety of our colleagues. And before I take advantage of a junior officer. Shouldn’t we…talk about this?”

“Kaidan Alenko,” she said softly. “Always looking for the sure thing. Everything needs to be perfectly defined and spelled out for you, doesn’t it? Sometimes the unknown can be a little exciting, too.”

He bristled a little, shoulders tightening, expression darkening. “What you see as exciting I see as something that could destroy our careers and endanger the mission. You don’t have to worry about what it looks like for a superior officer to…fraternize with someone under their command.”

“Don’t bring rank into this.”

“It’s not something we can just overlook!”

Her eyes flashed and he braced himself for whatever retort she was about to hurl at him, but her shoulders slumped as her anger fled in a sudden, unexpected rush. “Are you sure? ‘Cause I think I’m willing to overlook it.”

Against his better judgment he reached up and caressed her cheek. “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t…really damned tempting.”

“If you say ‘but,’ I’m going to hit you.”

“ _But.”_

She gave him a halfhearted thwack on the shoulder that brought a small, regretful smile to his face.

“We should think about it,” he said, as much trying to convince himself as he was her. “Maybe once all this is behind us we can…I don’t know. Re-evaluate. See where things stand.”

“Yeah,” she said after a long pause. “And later if we come to our senses, no hard feelings, right? We just continue on and pretend this never happened.”

His hand quivered. Instead of answering he stepped in and kissed her one more time, this time long, slow and deliberate. Ashley inhaled, a sound that was full and deep and filled with regret. He felt her hand splay flat on his chest, gently pushing him backwards. The look on her face dropped his heart to his feet.

“Maybe next time then, huh? Catch you later, LT. Don’t sweat the manifest. I’ll take care of it.”

He watched her trudge up the ramp in silence, wincing when the door slid shut behind her. In the silence that ensued he let out a long breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, then sat down in one of the empty chairs.

“ _Dammit_.” 

~

Liara resisted the urge to fling the pistol at the wall and just walk away. Her two instructors seemed equally annoyed, Wrex reducing himself to growls and short, barked orders, while Garrus attacked the problem as though it were a simple algorithm he just hadn’t figured out yet.

“Here,” he said, pulling off his visor and offering it to her. “Try this. It’s programmed for my rifle, but it shouldn’t have any trouble syncing with the pistol.”

Hesitantly she reached out and took it, settling it on her head so the purple eyepiece covered her left eye. Immediately feeds of data scrolled across her vision. Thermal signatures, targeting trajectories…she could read Garrus’ body temperature, see the shuddering double beat of Wrex’s twin hearts. The sheer volume of available data was so overwhelming she felt momentarily dizzy.  

“Is this what you see…all the time?” she asked.

“Great isn’t it?” he said with an almost happy sigh. “I can’t remember the last time I walked into a room without knowing every open sightline and the exact vector and velocity needed for a clean headshot.”

Not to mention the quickening respiration that would betray whether someone was afraid, the elevated adrenal levels as someone fought for their life…Liara imagined pulling the trigger and watching her victim’s heart shatter in an explosion of thermal heat, shuddered and pulled the headpiece off. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t think this is for me.” The turian took it back from her, one mandible flicking swiftly outward before pulling tight to his jaw.

She picked the gun up again with a sigh, took aim, again, and missed, _again._

“I’m sorry,” she said, biting back her disappointment and frustration. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”

“It just takes practice.”

She whirled at the sound of Shepard’s voice, eyes widening when she spotted him leaning against one of the cargo bay support pillars, watching them with an unreadable expression.

“Shepard,” she stammered, setting the pistol down like it had just burned her hand. “I didn’t see you there.”

“I’m getting that a lot today,” he said. “I didn’t want to interrupt.” His eyes never once left her face as he pushed himself off the pillar and walked towards them. “Garrus? Wrex? Dr. Chakwas is hunting for you two, I believe.”

Garrus’ plates tightened. “That woman is way too fond of needles, Commander.”

“If I had to sit through the bone knitter, you have to suffer your own torture.”

The two of them mumbled something before reluctantly trudging towards the elevator, Garrus with a slightly exaggerated limp. Shepard’s lips quirked in a slight smile as they muttered to one another until they were out of earshot.

“Two of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy when facing a foe, yet infantile when faced with modern medicine,” he remarked. “Go figure.”

Liara elected not to comment on Shepard’s feelings towards the bone knitter. Instead her fingers brushed across the grip of the pistol. “And yet I seem to be the reverse.”

Shepard shook his head. “No you’re not, Liara. Don’t sell yourself short. It takes more than a few practice sessions to become a good marksman.” He picked up the Brawler, briefly brushing against her hand. “I’m guessing you and this pistol don’t get along too well. You had a Kessler before, correct?”

 She nodded.

“Got along with it a little better?”

“Maybe,” she said with a sigh and exasperated toss of her hand. “One miss is the same as another, I suppose.” She made a noise of disgust in her throat.

Shepard said nothing, merely went back to the weapons locker and dug around for a few moments before coming away with another pistol stamped _Haliat Armory_. “Stiletto,” he told her. “Doesn’t hit quite as hard as the Brawler, but it’s better than the Kessler and kicks less. Higher rate of fire, too.” The same small smile returned. “So it’s a little more forgiving if you don’t have Garrus’ aim.”

“Or yours.”

She didn’t mean for there to be a note of accusation in her voice, but his smile faded instantly, any trace of warmth replaced with the blank, inscrutable mask she’d seen him use with the colonists on Feros.

He placed the gun in her hands, avoiding her eyes. As she wrapped her fingers around the grip he came around behind her, reaching down the length of her arms and clasping his hands gently over hers to raise the gun. He leaned forward until his head drew level with hers. When his cheek brushed hers she felt the prickle of the hair stubble growing there, a rough but not unwelcome texture. She had not stood this close to him since the meld.

“Take a deep breath,” he told her. “Relax your shoulders.”

Liara inhaled, resenting the quiver that ran through her body. The warmth of his chest against her back made it very, _very_ hard to relax. She rolled her shoulders.

“Exhale before you pull the trigger,” he said. “That’s a trick you can use to flush some of your tension, make it a little easier to line up the shot.”

Liara hooked her finger around the trigger and let out a long, slow breath, distantly aware that Shepard did the same. The slug roared out of the barrel and hit the target, low and in a non-vital area but still _hitting_ , which was at least some small improvement.

He let go of her hands and stepped back. The sudden withdrawal of heat pulled a ghost of air against her that brought on a shiver.

“See?” he said. “It just takes practice.”

She set the pistol down, nervously wiping her hands on her tunic. “Shepard—”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice so quiet and small it sounded more like an echo. His eyes shone a fervent blue even in the dim light. “I wanted to save her.”

“You could not have,” Liara said, her own voice catching in her throat. She twined her fingers together to hide the tremble in her hands. “Benezia was lost long before we arrived. I know that now. It is just…going to take some time to accept.” Her eyes flicked down to her feet, then back up. “You should not have had to be the one. I was her daughter. It was my responsibility.”

Slowly he shook his head. “You don’t want that on your conscience. Believe me, Liara. I’d rather you hate me for the rest of your life than have to live with being the one responsible for her death.”

Tears stung the corners of her eyes. “You were right, Shepard. I’m not a soldier. I’m not sure I belong here. I’ve done what you brought me here to do. I don’t know what else I have to offer you. I’ve been compiling a database of prothean locations that might be of help—”

“Liara.”

“—though without much more to go on it is frustratingly vague. I’ve requested copies of all of my old notes and my dissertation from the university to see if it might shed some light—”

“ _Liara_.”

“—in case there is something I have missed or forgotten, but—”

He caught her chin with the tip of his finger, meeting her gaze with those deep blue wells that had found her on Therum. She took a deep breath. “What I mean to say is, if you do not need me on the _Normandy_ any longer…I will not blame you.”

Shepard let her go, eyes flicking briefly away. “Do you want to go?”

She shook her head. _Just don’t ask me if it’s for the right reasons_ , she pleaded silently.

“I need you here,” he said, then reached out suddenly and closed his fingers over her hands, squeezing tightly. If Garrus had been in the room with his visor, he would have seen her heart rate skyrocket. “I… _want_ you here.”

Her voice locked in her throat as she tried to pay attention to something other than the feel of his hands. Warm, so _warm…_ did all human skin feel as smooth and warm as this? His expression, so closed just minutes ago, now radiated something open and vulnerable, as though a simple touch of his hand had reopened the link between them.

But before she could reply she was interrupted by the echo of voices from the direction of engineering. Instantly Shepard dropped his hands, the vulnerability vanishing as abruptly as it had appeared. Engineer Adams and Navigator Pressly headed up the ramp from engineering to the left of the elevator, deep in conversation. Shepard spared her one last glance before reluctantly pulling away and calling out to his XO.

“Pressly! Hang on. I need a moment.”

“Sure thing, Commander.”

Liara watched Shepard’s retreating back, mind a whirlwind of thoughts she wasn’t quite prepared to sort through yet. When he was safely on the other side of the cargo bay she drew in a shaky breath. Shifted her gaze to the pistol sitting on the bench. Picked it up, and reset the target.

 


	37. Expectans

Shepard shut his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, halos from the fluorescent lamp on the desk in his quarters dancing across his retinas. Some time after returning to his quarters Felawa had dropped by with a datapad from Liara. He tried not to wonder why she hadn’t brought it herself.

He’d done enough second guessing for one day.  

The contents of the datapad, however, were brilliant. Liara had enlisted Pressly’s help to build a database of every known system on the other side of the Mu Relay containing anything related to the protheans. It was far from complete, and just as frustratingly vague as she had claimed, but at least it felt like _something_.

This entire time Saren had remained one step ahead of him, vital pieces of the puzzle still floating just out of his reach. And Shepard could feel the noose tightening around his neck. The death of Benezia would push Saren to move faster, of that Shepard was certain. It’s what he would have done in the turian’s place, anyway, which unleashed a whole other set of uncertainties he couldn’t afford to explore right now.

Everything came back to the conduit. Saren seemed so desperate to find it, even though there was no indication that he even knew what it was.

_You’re missing something._ But he just couldn’t put a finger on what it was.

When his door chime sounded he jumped. “Yeah,” he called out, heart thudding as he palmed the lock. Pressly stood on the other side of the door, and Shepard tried not to show his disappointment.

“Sir?” the navigator asked, hands linked smartly behind his back.

“What have you got, Pressly?”

“Serviceman Chase received a coded message. Designated for Spectre authority only.”

Shepard frowned. “Can they route it to my quarters?”

“Already done.”

Without missing a beat Shepard backtracked to his desk, fumbling at the small comm screen he had yet to actually use. Behind him Pressly cleared his throat.

“I left the door open for a reason,” Shepard called over his shoulder. “Whatever it is, you’re going to hear about it. Might as well be firsthand.”

The navigator entered his quarters without argument, standing a respectful distance while Shepard queued up the message. Both thumbprint and retina scan were required to open it. The bright red lance from the optic scanner left him blinking awkwardly until the afterimage cleared. When the encryption appeared satisfied that Shepard was indeed a Spectre, the file unlocked, and an audio file that was clearly salarian in origin began to play.

_“Shepard. This is Jondam Bau, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. We have not had the pleasure of meeting in person, but I have information vital to your mission. An old contact of mine with the Salarian Special Tasks Group notified me of a rather important discovery made on Eletania two weeks ago. It seems an STG team stumbled upon an intact prothean beacon.”_

Shepard glanced sharply at Pressly, who already had his omnitool up looking up for information on Eletania.

_“We arranged to transport it to a salarian research facility on Virmire. However, we lost contact with our team shortly after arrival. Scientists at the facility claim our agents never arrived and do not know their whereabouts, however I have reason to suspect this is…implausible.”_

If a Spectre, who was no doubt former STG himself, presumed it was implausible, Shepard wasn’t going to argue.

“ _It is my belief that the beacon has been compromised, and the facility itself may not be secure. STG wishes to evaluate the situation before sending in reinforcements, however given your current mission I thought you would find this information pertinent.”_

_“_ Pertinent,” Pressly said with a snort. “There’s a salarian for you.”

“ _I, for one, support your assertions that Saren is an immediate threat. Delay in investigating this matter may therefore be inadvisable. Good luck, Shepard.”_

The message ended. Shepard stared at the console a moment longer, hand on his chin. “Where is Virmire, Pressly?”

“Sentry Omega,” the navigator said after a moment. “Hoc System.”

Shepard leaned on his desk and drummed his fingers on the counter. “How fast can you get us there?”

Pressly scowled down at his omnitool. “Not as fast as you’d like. We’re in Hawking Eta now. To get back to Sentry? Hell, Commander. That’s five relay jumps.”

“ _Five?”_

“Which means we’ll have to do a core dump in either Hades Gamma or Attican Beta. I’ll have to check with Adams and see how hot the sinks are now.”

Shepard swore. “Get on with it then. And in the meantime find Alenko. If we’ve got that much time I want to know everything we can about Virmire before we arrive. Maybe for once we can go in prepared.”

The navigator smirked. “Don’t get too carried away, Commander.”

“Humor me, Pressly,” Shepard said dryly. “Please.”

“Yes, sir.” The old man smiled and left, already leaning into his comm to page Adams as he headed towards the stairs.

Shepard went to the door and leaned against its frame, wondering idly if he could spot Alenko lurking near the aft terminals. But who he saw instead was Liara, standing near the rear of the elevator, watching him.

“Hi,” he said, unable to hide his surprise.

“Hi,” she answered, voice soft, then took a few steps towards him until she was close enough he could smell the scent of lavender soap clinging to her skin. “It sounds like you’ve found something.”

“It’s a lead,” he concurred, holding her gaze. “Still don’t know what it means, yet. But something is better than nothing.”

Her eyes flicked downward, fingers toying anxiously with the hem of her sleeve. He opened his mouth, closed it again, searching for the right question to ask to set her at ease. When nothing particularly insightful came to him he gave up.

“What can I do for you, Liara?” he asked.

She shook her head, eyes widening a little. “I am sorry, it is nothing. Now is not the time. I am sure you have things to do. It can wait.” She turned back to the sleeper pods. Just before she stepped out of reach he touched her shoulder. Her entire body tensed, as startled by his touch as he was that he’d made the gesture.

“No,” he said, when she turned back around, then nodded towards his quarters. “It’s all right. Come on in.”

She hesitated for a second, then followed. When the door slid shut behind them he immediately thought about the last time the two of them had stood here, bonded together by fear, confusion and death. But under the nightmare had been something distinctly…more. Something undeniably intimate and personal that had been totally absent in his meld with Shaila.

_(We will close it together_.)

When he closed his eyes he could still feel her there in his head.

“Shepard,” she said, her voice cutting through his thoughts and anchoring him back in the present. “I wanted to ask you something. About what you said in the cargo bay.”

He felt the breath catch in his throat. “You mean about staying.”

She nodded.

“Have you changed your mind?”

“No,” she said quickly. “No. Unless you…”

“No.”

Seconds ticked by, this time marked by the small, audible chronometer on his desk. Liara drew in a deep breath, blue eyes searching his intently before she spoke.

“What did you mean when you said…you wanted me here?”

A gnawing, unfamiliar sense of uncertainty gripped him. Even in the cool temperature of the room he felt his skin heat. “You have more to offer to this crew, this…mission. Than just what you can bring to the battlefield.”

Her head tilted slightly, trepidation flicking briefly across her face. She glanced swiftly at her feet before raising her eyes back up to his. “I have to confess I hoped it might be…more than that.” 

His throat constricted, and when he finally managed to force words out it sounded almost like an echo, as though someone else had spoken using an imitation of his own voice.  

“Maybe…maybe it is.” Against his better judgment he reached out and rested the palm of his hand against her cheek, taking in the small shudder that ran through her body as she closed her eyes and leaned into it ever so slightly. Gently he caressed one of her freckles with his thumb. Her skin wasn’t smooth like he expected, the pad of his thumb sliding across a fine grain surface that felt…alien, rough, but so alluring in its unfamiliarity he didn’t want to stop. Just that light, fragile touch called back thoughts of the meld, the current that had traveled through their skin, tethering them together in ways he’d never imagined possible.

A small whisper of caution reeled him back in. _She’s grieving. She’s upset. Don’t take advantage._  

His fingers stiffened, and he removed his hand. “Liara,” he started.

“This isn’t the right time,” she supplied. “I understand.”

He shook his head, not entirely sure what he wanted to say, or even why. His hand hovered in mid-air for a moment before settling by his side, fingers twitching slightly as though they had no idea what was expected of them.   

“They found another beacon,” he said at last.

Her eyes widened, the architecture of her entire face shifting from reserved to unabashedly excited with breathtaking speed. “Who? Where?”

“The salarians. They took it to Virmire. But their team isn’t checking in. Naturally. Pressly is on his way to the CIC to start preparations, but we have a few relay jumps ahead of us.” 

She clapped her hands together. “If we can access that beacon, it’s possible we can decipher the rest of what you saw on Eden Prime!”

Shepard nodded, feeling something sink in his chest. “Yes,” he said softly. “And I can’t do that without you.”

“Where did they find it?” she asked.

“Eletania,” he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Her brow furrowed until Shepard thought he could see every cog and wheel in her mind suddenly turning, the prospect of a problem that played to her strengths bringing every inch of her to life.

“I have a colleague at the University of Serrice who did research on Eletania,” she said. “I’ll send out a request for her notes to the next comm buoy. If I can get some idea of what the prothean presence on Eletania was, it might give us an advantage in deciphering the information.”

Shepard approached the small table in his quarters and gripped the back of one of the chairs, staring down at his reflection in the glass tabletop. It hadn’t occurred to him until now that finding another beacon would mean interfacing with it. 

( _She opens her arms son in a sea of blood, welcoming machines that descend like locusts, speaking with red fire and the blowing of horns.)_

“Shepard? Are you all right?”

He looked up and offered a smile. “Fine.”

When her expression of uncertainty remained he straightened, smoothing out a crease in his uniform and forcing his posture to relax. “Between dealing with Anoleis and having the Council up my ass I haven’t had much rack time since we got back.”

“Of course,” she said, the excitement draining from her body as quickly as it had formed. “I’m sure you need to rest. I’ll let you be.”

“Let me know what you find,” he replied.

She backed quickly towards the door, groping for the seal. When it opened she stepped swiftly through, casting a glance over his shoulder. This time he didn’t stop her.

He exhaled when the door shut behind her, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

_I hoped it might be…more than that_.

If it wasn’t more than that, he wouldn’t have balked at destroying the rachni queen, preventing even the lingering chance of facing a war on two fronts. The connection between them had been too real, too deep, to brush off as inconsequential.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that her…interest in him might not run deeper than the beacon. That perhaps, even if she didn’t realize it, he was simply a means to an end.

Maybe that was enough for her. But it wasn’t for him.

Heaving a heavy sigh he headed for his door. It was getting late, but despite his weariness he wasn’t ready to sleep yet. Thoughts of the beacon had stirred up enough of a maelstrom in his brain that there wasn’t much point in trying.

Pakti and Dubyansky both offered him a brief salute as he exited his quarters, each headed to the CIC to start third shift. Shepard nodded in reply, himself steering towards the mess in search for a cup of coffee, hoping Liara hadn’t had the same idea.

She hadn’t. But Alenko had. The lieutenant stood in front of the cooktop, poking at something in a skillet that smelled like soy sauce.

“Hey, Commander,” he said, without looking up. “Want in on this?”

“Sure,” he replied, moving to the table and dropping carelessly onto the bench. Alenko concentrated on the skillet, stirring the contents with a spatula, a determined crease in his brow that seemed comically out of place given the task at hand.

“Kaidan Alenko,” Shepard said with a chuckle. “Slayer of rachni by day, iron chef by night.”

Alenko shrugged, smiling without looking up from the stove. “I try to be well rounded.” With a flick of his wrist he swished the contents of the skillet into two bowls, bringing one to Shepard along with an unsolicited cup of coffee before going back for his own. Shepard couldn’t help but notice that his normally easygoing expression seemed tighter around the edges than normal, the lightness in his step not quite matching the tenor of his eyes.

Shepard stabbed at the plate with his fork, reconstituted vegetables and globs of protein masquerading as meat, eying his lieutenant. He took a bite, chewing thoughtfully, then leaned back in his chair.

“Do you remember GC Harriston?”

Alenko snorted. “Giant ape of a marine with biceps bigger than his head and a beef against biotics?”

Shepard grinned. “Yeah. I thought you were finally going to let loose and knock his ass on the floor during a sparring session. Turned out you’d stuck a laxative in his soup.”

“He ran to the head so fast you’d have thought a pack of vorcha were after him with flamethrowers,” Alenko said, breaking into a chuckle. “The pen is mightier than the sword sometimes, right? What made you think of that?”

“Dunno,” Shepard said with a shrug, gazing at something speared on his fork that might have started life as a snap pea. “It’s been a helluva day.”

Alenko huffed, equally absorbed in his own meal. “Amen to that.”

~

Joker yawned, stretching and shifting in his seat. Beside him Addison Chase gave him a sidelong glance that landed somewhere between exasperated and _I told you so_ , which was probably deserved. He should have gone to the sleeper pods after the first relay jump, caught a few hours before reaching Sentry Omega. Or at least joined in the poker game Dr. Chakwas and Garrus had going on the crew deck.   

But nope. Instead he’d insisted upon overseeing each jump and coordinating with Adams for the charge dump, unwilling to trust it to the hands of someone else, even if she was capable. It was stupid, it wasn’t fair, and judging by her sullen posture and terse, clipped replies to any attempted conversation, Chase fully agreed. It also pretty much meant forgoing sleep almost entirely, as once they arrived in the Hoc system Shepard wasn’t exactly going to wait for him to get some shuteye before taking a team down to the surface. Once the team was ashore his was his job to monitor communications, keep the ship ready in case an emergency evac was required.

And there was no _way_ Joker was trusting _that_ to anyone else.

So instead it was going to be stims and coffee. Not that he hadn’t done it before. But there was just no good replacement for a decent nights’ sleep.

“Adams,” he called lazily into the comm. “I’ve got our vectors calculated for the jump to Sentry. Sending you numbers to confirm.”

“ _Got ‘em,”_ came the cheerful reply. “ _Stand by for confirmation.”_

Joker didn’t know anyone, even Alenko, as infuriatingly easygoing as their chief engineer. The only thing that kept it from grating endlessly on his nerves was the discovery that despite all his pleasantries, Adams was a night owl who hated mornings. Trying to talk to him before his mandatory two cups of coffee meant taking your life into your hands, which at least proved he was human and not some cybernetic AI clone.

He was also as touchy about his engines as Joker was about the entire ship. So it was of no surprise that Pressly hit the sleeper pods after charting their course, while Adams and Joker remained at their posts, refusing to let anyone else get their mitts up the _Normandy’s_ skirts. Felawa was in charge until the surely navigator returned, something he’d made the entire CIC aware of if the grumbling up and down the CIC hallway were any indication.

“ _Looks right on the money to me,”_ Adams sounded back after a few minutes. “ _You’ve got the green light from here.”_

“Felawa, better let the Commander know we’re about to make the jump to Sentry.”

_“Yes, sir!”_

Through the shutters he could see the blue glimmer of the Gorgoron relay’s massive mass effect generator against the black curtain of space. He pinged the giant structure with their trajectory request, waited for the giant, oscillating arms to start their spin. 

“ _Heat sinks are running at six percent capacity,”_ Adams reported. “ _Drive core charge saturation at three percent. She’s clean as a whistle and ready to go.”_

“Ok, someone needs to go wake Pressly out of his coma. We enter the Hoc system without him and he might shit a kitten.”

Chase snorted back laughter, momentarily forgetting her resentment.

“Felawa, we nominate you,” she said into the comm.

They could hear him muttering on the other end. Joker flashed her a quick smile. “I think everyone in the CIC will thank you for that.”

“Felawa’s not so bad,” she said. “So long as no one puts him in charge of anything.”

“We’re hitting the relay in fifteen,” Joker called out.

“ _IES set to engage as soon as we reach Hoc.”_

“Good,” Joker muttered. “I’ll feel much better once we’re invisible. Bad enough going this close to the Terminus Systems when you know what to expect.”

Chase tilted her head to the side. “Slavers. Pirates. And apparently salarian scientists.”

“Yeah, salarian scientists who aren’t answering their phone. There’s no telling what’s waiting for us there, and unless our luck changes it’s not going to be something cute and fluffy.”

Snares of light whipped outward from the relay, wrapping greedily around the _Normandy’s_ hide and propelling it through a mass-free corridor towards the Hoc system.

_Virmire_ , Joker thought. Lush, frontier world, according to the star charts. Oceans, forests…a regular tropical getaway. If nothing else, their destination was going to be a sight prettier than the last few.

Maybe, just _maybe_ , it was a good sign.

 


	38. Casus Comparant

Shepard gazed out shutters at the churning tumble of Virmire’s sapphire oceans visible beneath thick whorls of darkening cloud.  According to the information Bau had supplied, the salarian research facility was located on a northern continent, in a slightly more mountainous region swathed by shallow rivers and thick blankets of vegetation.

Joker adjusted the gimbal settings, bringing the planet better into view. “Looks a little like Earth,” he observed.

Williams and Garrus had also joined them in the cockpit, both suited up in their combat armor. The gunnery chief lounged in the chair next to Joker, while Garrus stood beside Shepard, mandibles working as he studied Virmire’s marbled surface.

“Oceans are too light,” Williams said, craning her neck to see better.         

“Too dark,” Garrus corrected.

“Odd place for the salarians to put down roots, this close to the Terminus systems,” Shepard mused.

A hum ran through Garrus’ subvocals. “I imagine there’s more going on here than simple research. We’re talking about salarians. They’re clever bastards. Out here it’s a little easier to get out from under the eye of the Council.”

Joker raised an eyebrow. “But they’re a Council race. They help _enforce_ Council oversight. And yell at everyone else to fall in line, unless I’m mistaken.”

Williams voiced a noise of agreement.

The turian shrugged. “In the end we’re all a little out for ourselves, aren’t we?”

“Thank you,” Williams said with a toss of her hand.

“Any comm traffic?” Shepard asked. Joker shook his head.

“They’re quiet, Commander. Too quiet. No queued datapacks or outgoing transmissions of any kind, actually.”

Pressly came bustling in from the CIC, taking in the crowd with a mild flash of annoyance. “Joker. Take a look at quadrant six two nine, where the base is supposed to be. Tell me what you see.”

Joker’s fingers flashed across his interface. Shepard heard a small klaxon go off, followed by a whistle through the pilot’s teeth. “I imagine I see what you did, old man. An arsenal of AA cannons, all armed and ready.”

“On a _research_ base?” Garrus asked. Joker pointed wordlessly to his scans.

Shepard worked his jaw. “So we’re going to go with the assumption the salarians have been compromised and those guns’ll be pointed at us.”

“Not a chance they see us, sir,” Pressly declared. “Yet, anyway.”

“Good. But if we want that beacon we have to find a way to get the _Normandy_ planetside.

“ _Without_ getting blown up,” Joker interjected.

“Right,” Shepard said. “So we need to take out those AA guns. Pressly, find us a drop zone for the Mako and get me some detailed scans of the compound and surrounding area. I’ll get a team ready. If you can get us in long enough to drop us off, we can do the rest.”

“But we don’t even know what’s down there,” Pressly argued. “You could be walking into a trap.”

_“Commander Shepard.”_

Shepard’s eyes flicked to the comm at the sound of Tali’s voice. “What have you got, Tali?”

“ _I’ve detected a transmission from the planet that might be helpful to us.”_

“Good,” Shepard declared. “Then I want everyone in the conference room.”

~

Tali pointed at the view screen, which bore the results of a thermal scan a few clicks west of the main compound. Shepard studied it carefully, choosing to stand in the middle of the room while his crewmates fidgeted in chairs along the circumference.

“So you’re saying whatever this is, it isn’t part of the main compound.”

She shook her head. “Look at these readings. They’re subtle. Bleeding off as background noise. But it’s definitely salarian.

“And you’re positive it has nothing to do with the base?”

“Too cleverly disguised. I almost missed it. They don’t _want_ to be seen. I’d be willing to bet anyone inside the compound that isn’t STG would just assume it’s one of theirs. But I’m _positive_ it isn’t.”

“Our missing STG team,” Shepard supplied.

She nodded. “With those AA guns active, even if they had their ship they couldn’t escape. And I’ve confirmed geth presence within a four kilometer radius on all sides. They’re surrounded.”

“Geth,” Wrex said with a snarl. “That means Saren.”

“No sign of the dreadnaught,” Garrus pointed out.

Shepard’s posture tightened ever so slightly, fingers tapping restlessly against his forearm. “He won’t be far.”

Liara stirred. “He cannot get the beacon.”

“If he hasn’t blown up the place, the beacon’s probably still there,” Williams muttered darkly.

Alenko scowled and rested his elbows on his knees. “Saren or no, it still leaves geth to deal with. Can we carve a path to them with the Mako?”

They all started at the viewscreen.

“We’re going to find out,” Shepard answered. “Pressly, what have you got for me?”

The navigator rose and approached the viewscreen, using his omnitool to pull up a topography map. “Closest we can get you in is here, outside of the geth perimeter Tali’s identified. Any closer than that and we risk detection. If those cannons start looking for us we’ll have to cut tail and run.”

“I’d rather you not have to do that,” Shepard said dryly.

“Agreed. There’s a route you can follow here along the shoreline. Hopefully it’s the path of least resistance.”

Tali tapped at her faceplate, studying the map. “We won’t be able to identify individual pockets of geth until we get down there, but I think regardless of their numbers or communications protocols, as soon as we start firing they’ll all know we’re here.”

Pressly put a hand to his chin, shifting his gaze from the schematic to Shepard. “That’s a lot of hostiles against one tank, sir.”

“Not if we can take out a comm tower or two along the way,” Shepard replied. Though it did give him pause. Presumably they had armatures scattered about the perimeter. They were slow moving enough that it would take far more time than Shepard needed to gather against them at one location, but if things went wrong...

“I’m taking the Mako in with Williams, Wrex and Tali,” he announced. “We’ll clear a path and find the salarians, figure out the situation.”

“Sir,” Alenko objected.

Shepard held a hand up. “We’re doing our fighting from the tank. Numbers aren’t going to help us, and if they manage to light up the Mako I need someone in reserve to get in and get it done.” He gave his lieutenant a pointed glance. “Because we’re seeing it through no matter what, got it? If something happens to my team, you, Garrus and Liara need to come up with a plan B. And it better be a good one. Saren isn’t getting this goddamned beacon.”

Alenko nodded stiffly. “Understood, sir.”

“Everyone suit up,” he said with a grim smile.  “We’ve got work to do.”

~

Garrus returned to the cockpit as the _Normandy_ skimmed through cloud, dipping low enough to the surface he could see white crests capping ocean waves that shivered violently outward when the ship stole past. Rounded peaks of stone blanketed with green flora dotted the shoreline, with sand beaches tucked in between. Far out to sea a storm brewed; the turquoise sky blended to a dark, bruised blue, white wisps of cloud becoming brooding and ominous. Out on the horizon he even thought he spied a flicker of white where lightning struck the water. At least Virmire was a sight prettier than the places they’d been to lately. Yet here he was, stuck on the ship.

Alenko had gone down to the cargo bay to see Shepard and the others off, face beset with the same grim lines as Shepard, and for different reasons. Garrus didn’t think the lieutenant enjoyed being stuck on the ship any more than he did, even if the justification was sound.   

On Joker’s terminal the Mako’s blue transponder marker jumped as the tank roared out of the cargo bay, stabilizing thrusters firing madly as it careened towards the shallow beach below.

About the only good thing about being left behind was not having to deal with Shepard behind the wheel.

A spray of water kicked out from under the tank’s treads before Joker gunned the _Normandy_ back towards the atmosphere and the relative safety of orbit, reducing Shepard and the others to nothing more than a blip on the ship’s radar. Garrus shifted his feet, subconsciously resting his talons on the grip of his pistol until he noticed Joker eyeing him.

“Can’t hit them from here, big guy,” the pilot informed him.

Garrus grumbled and dropped his hand, talons twitching. “Do we have an open comm link, at least?”

Joker reached out and tapped in a few commands. Moments later an audio feed blared to life, catching Williams in mid-sentence.

_“…fried turian with a side of duck sauce.”_

The pilot stole a look at Garrus. “I’m going to guess that was meant for Saren, not for you, buddy.”

Garrus crossed his arms, mandibles quivering. “Probably go better with kava sauce, to be honest.”

Tali’s flanging cadence, further distorted through the comm, spoke over the others. _“I see them on radar, Shepard. Probably about a dozen, two four eight mark nine. Drones, rocket troopers. One armature.”_

_“Adjusting course. Williams, got that cannon ready to go?”_

_“I even found the scope button.”_

_“Shut up.”_

Garrus muttered under his breath and took a few impatient strides back and forth across the tiny cockpit. “I hope she remembers she needs to make allowances for the humidity levels in the targeting matrix. And the wind shear is heavier, too.”

Joker rolled his eyes. _“_ Garrus, if there’s one thing Williams knows how to do it’s work a damn gun.”

Garrus huffed and continued to pace, nearly running right into Liara as she slipped into the cockpit and quietly took a seat to Joker’s right. A small impatient trill ran through his subvocals. “Come to join in on the helpless frustration?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but a roar of static over the comm forced the words back down her throat.

_“Hostiles ahead!”_

_“I see them, Williams – take down that armature.”_

_“Shepard, left, rockets inbound!”_

Garrus grimaced at the sound of grinding metal and a string of curses.

_“Engaging thrusters!”_

The unmistakable bellow of a disgruntled krogan roared across the comm, causing Joker to thumb the volume down a little.

_“Goddamnit, Skipper,_ warn _me before you do that next time!”_

_“I did. Maybe you should try listening.”_

_“No, I mean_ before _you fire the thrusters, not_ while _you fire them!”_

_“Is that armature down yet?”_

_“It will be when you stop slewing us around like a drunk elephant!”_

_“I’ve never seen a drunk elephant.”_

Garrus winced as Wrex bellowed in the background.

_“FIRE THE DAMNED GUNS.”_

_“Keep her steady for a second, Skipper.”_

_“Now, Williams, now!”_

_“GOT the bastard. Targets down, sir.”_

_“Good work.”_

Liara exhaled, fingers uncurling from a tight fist. “Goddess,” she murmured softly, throwing Garrus a relieved look, to which he nodded his understanding. For someone not accustomed to combat, she was getting more exposure than most seasoned veterans in the turian military.

Tension temporarily abated, the asari turned a puzzled look to Joker, her smooth features furrowed with confusion. “What is an elephant?”

Joker snorted into his hand and cast her a sidelong glance. “A dumbed down elcor that never forgets.”

“Drunk elcor have high collateral damage on the Citadel,” Garrus remarked, trying to ignore the sound of his heart thudding in his chest. “But it’s the politest shouting you’ve ever heard.”

_“Tali. Any sign that the other geth in the area are mobilizing?”_

All three immediately turned their attention back to Joker’s display.

_“They accessed their comms, but I think I was able to block the message before it got out.”_

“Did she really?” Garrus asked, subvocals humming.

_“Really?”_ Shepard echoed. “ _Nice work.”_

_“Still won’t take long for them to notice an entire unit isn’t responding. I recommend haste.”_

_“For the love of God, please don’t tell him to drive faster.”_

_“I can put Wrex in charge of the cannon if you can’t handle it, Williams.”_

_“Wrex looks a little green around the gills, Skipper. Do krogan vomit?”_

A muffled sound in the background that sounded like untranslated krogan expletives followed.

“ _Shepard, I hate to interrupt, but I see something new on radar. It looks like an armature, only…bigger.”_

Shepard’s reply was swift and sharp, minus any trace of the playful banter that had been there a moment ago. _“Where?”_

_“Around that rock formation, grid six four nine mark five. I’m detecting a mass accelerator with…considerably more output than what we’ve seen on the armatures.”_

Garrus’ plates tightened.

_“How much more?”_

_“Um, about double.”_

Shepard swore. _“Williams, are the capacitors charged?”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

“Joker,” Garrus hissed. “What do you see?”

“You think my scans are better than his right now?” the pilot hissed back, but his fingers had already started roving his haptic interface before Garrus even asked the question.

_“How many other geth in the area?”_

_“About a dozen. Keelah, I see rocket troopers and destroyers this time.”_

_“I’d like to see those damn destroyers charge this tank.”_

_“If you aren’t careful, Skipper, you’re going to get your wish.”_

_“Shit, I see it. It’s twice as tall as an armature. Tali, are you seeing this?”_

_“Yes, sir – running as many scans as I can! Incoming!”_

Garrus’ talons tightened into fists as a red circle blinked around the Mako’s transponder signal, signaling a critical hit on the shields. Liara sucked in a breath, and Joker’s shoulders became so rigid they could have deflected a missile.

_“Back off, back off, back off!”_

_“Fire that slug, Chief!”_

_“Shit,_ shit!”

“Can’t we _do_ something?” Garrus demanded.

“Like what?” Joker retorted. “Fire the GUARDIAN lasers and take out the Mako along with the damn geth, and alert every fucking AA gun on the planet where we are? What the hell am I supposed to do?” He slammed an open palm against his panel, then winced and sucked air through his teeth.

Garrus began pacing again, boots striking the deckplates with exaggerated force. “How the hell do you just sit up here and listen to this without going insane?”

“Welcome to my goddamned daily existence.”  

“ _I’m detecting a firing pattern, Shepard. Sending it to you now.”_

_“Williams, watch that destroyer on your nine.”_

_“I see it, I see it. Shit.”_

_“Goddamnit, they’re charging my tank!”_

_“And sapping our shields. Watch it, Skipper!”_

_“We can’t take another hit from that armature, sir.”_

_“Hang on, I’m using your data to program some evasive maneuvers. Williams, think you can fire that thing if we’re airborne?”_

_“Jesus, are you doing what I think you’re doing?”_

_“It worked on Feros, didn’t it?”_

_“We almost leapt off the goddamned skybridge!”_

_“We’re not on a bridge this time.”_

_“Yeah, but there’s an ocean!”_

_“I’m doing it. Is the cannon hot?”_

_“You’re damn right.”_

_“Hold on.”_

The three of them in the cockpit collectively leaned closer to the comm. Garrus gripped Joker’s seatback with his talons, leaving marks in the headrest. Joker drummed his fingers anxiously on the console, one hand to his forehead. At the sight of Liara’s stricken expression the turian let go of Joker’s chair and moved over to hers, as though somehow standing in her proximity would alleviate some of her anxiety. And maybe his.

“ _Take that you colossal motherfucker!”_

“ _Nice work, Chief.”_

_“It’s not down yet, sir!”_

_“Bringing us around for one more pass. Williams, let me know when you’ve got a charge. In the meantime, hit that machine gun and see if you can’t take out that damned rocket trooper that keeps shooting at me.”_

Williams’ subsequent cackle actually did ease some of Garrus’ tension. The gunnery chief liked carnage almost as much as Wrex did, and if she was laughing it meant there was some kind of handle on things.

“ _Cannon’s online, sir. Give me one more clear shot at that bastard.”_

_“Coming right up, Chief.”_

Agonizing seconds later, Williams’ victorious yell echoed so loudly over the comm that Garrus jumped.

“ _Fuck you, you fucking piece of tin.”_

_“Nice, shot, Chief!”_

_“Thank you, Tali. Shepard we’ve still got a destroyer on—”_

The comm stuttered for a moment, followed by a groan from the krogan and a surprised yelp that sounded like Tali.

“ _Nevermind,_ ” Williams finished. “ _Shepard ran over its face. Um, I think that cleared the hostiles.”_

_“Don’t get too excited, Chief. I see another squad ahead. And there are more of those super armatures.”_

_“I believe the term is colossal motherfuckers, Tali.”_

Shepard’s terse, clipped tone cut through their chatter. _“What do our shields look like?”_

_“Shield strength at twenty eight percent,”_ Tali replied _. “The armor plating might be able to take an unshielded hit from that thing—”_

“Oh, hell no,” Garrus muttered.

_“—but we’d be dead in the water.”_

_“How far are we from the gatehouse and that AA gun?”_

_“If we can get past the…um, colossus, I think we’re in the clear, aside from whatever they have inside the facility.”_

Silence followed. Garrus began pacing again.

“ _Shepard, I have an idea.”_

_“I’m all ears, Tali.”_

_“You aren’t going to like it.”_

Garrus’s whipped his head around to Joker’s console so fast he was surprised his neck bones didn’t snap. When Shepard spoke, his guarded tone echoed Garrus’ own sentiments.

“ _What is it?”_

_“I need to get out of the tank.”_

“No way,” Garrus sputtered, slamming his fist against a bulkhead. This time Joker jumped and shot him a glare, which Garrus ignored. “No _way._ They’ll rip her to shreds!”

_“You’re right, that’s a terrible idea, Tali.”_

“ _Do you remember what I did to the armature on Therum?”_

Liara frowned, glancing quickly at Garrus for an explanation, who sucked in a breath and felt his heart pound when he understood her plan.

“ _You want to hack the colossus.”_

Garrus could not see her nod, but he could picture it. His plates tightened as something constricted deep inside his chest.

_“I can’t do it from inside the Mako. You’ll have to cover me.”_

Williams swore. _“This is a bad idea, Tali. There’s a lot of them out there. The moment they see that hatch open they’ll be on you like a varren in a pyjack nest.”_

_“You want to get to that gatehouse? This is how.”_

Silence rolled across the comm.

_“You think it’ll work? That thing’s a lot bigger than the armature.”_

Another pause. Garrus ground his teeth. “This is insane,” he muttered. Joker waved a hand to silence him.

_“It’ll work,”_ she replied, tone brazen aside from a small waver that could have been distortion from the comm. “ _It’ll be all right, Chief. Do what you can. The rest…well, all that matters is that we get through, right?”_

More swearing. This time even Wrex had a few choice words to say about the matter.

_“Moving us into position,”_ Shepard said with a frustrated exhale. “ _Williams, you take out anything that comes near her, you got that?”_

_“I definitely didn’t need to hear that twice, Skipper.”_

The comm was as silent as the cockpit when Shepard gunned the Mako forward. Garrus watched the transponder dot roll towards the geth signatures guarding the control tower, the tension in his body coiling every muscle tighter than a spring.

_“Are you sure about this?”_ Shepard asked finally. _“I’m not going to give an order.”_

_“It’s our best option.”_

Garrus heard Shepard’s sigh of resignation. _“Use those rocks to take as much cover as you can. Williams has your back. Do it fast and get your ass back in here, got it?”_

“ _Yes, sir.”_

_“Skipper, they see us.”_

_“Acknowledged. Return fire. Opening the hatch!”_

“Tali,” Garrus said under his breath, subharmonics thrumming with anxiety. Joker’s fist curled against the console.

“Can you keep track of her comm outside the Mako?” Garrus demanded.

Joker worked his haptic keys, one fist remaining closed so tight his knuckles had turned pale. A second feed mingled with the first, at first only distinguishable by the sound of Tali’s labored breathing. Garrus reached over Joker’s shoulder and pulled up her vitals.

“Hey, _back off,_ ” Joker said, voice clipped, knocking Garrus’ hand away with his forearm. Garrus swallowed a response, instead focusing on the bioreadouts. It wasn’t the same as he got with his visor, but it was something. The data both reassured him and made things worse. Her respiration had gone way above normal, heart rate too high, adrenal levels close to their max.

“I should be down there,” Garrus growled.

“Either shut up and calm down or get the hell out of here,” Joker threatened. Liara shrank down in her seat, trying to appear as small as possible, hand gripping the armrest.

_“They see her, Shepard!”_

_“I know, I know! Fire the damn gun!”_

_“Laying down suppressive volley. You so much as touch her, you metal bastards, and I’ll rip your goddamn heads off.”_

Tali’s voice filtered across the comm, punctuated by the unmistakable hiss of bullets and the crash of a rocket striking the water. _“I’m in position. Deploying grenade.”_

Garrus heard a string of indecipherable alien words, heart leaping in his throat when he realized it was a quarian prayer.

“ _It missed! It missed! I’m not close enough!”_

Shepard swore. _“Williams, we need to lure it closer. Can you piss it off?”_

_“If course I can piss it off, sir, the trick is keeping it from taking things out on her!”_

_“Just get it done, Chief.”_

_“Roger that, Skipper. Pissing it off!”_

_“Tali, take cover! Williams, get that destroyer off her,_ now!”

_“Fuck, fuck,_ fuck!”

Garrus watched in horror as the Mako veered sharply towards one of the red transponder dots now closing alarmingly fast. It blinked, then winked out entirely, and Garrus released a long breath. Any sense of relief quickly vanished when Tali yelped.

“ _Taking fire, taking fire!”_

_“Goddammit!”_

Tali gasped and Garrus clamped his teeth down, nearly sawing off his tongue.

_“Tali!”_

_“I’m okay, I’m okay! I think it’s in range. Loading another grenade. I just need a few seconds.”_

_“Make those seconds quick!”_

Over the comm Garrus heard the thunk of a grenade leaving the launch rail and held his breath, mandibles pulling in tight to his jaw.

_“Got it!”_ she crowed.

Garrus swung his gaze to the combat scanner, watching the enemy blips with his heart beating in his throat. One began blinking in response to depleting shields.  

“ _Do you see this Skipper? They’re firing on each other! Tali, you’re a goddamned genius!”_

A sharp, shrill cry ripped across the comm.

“ _Tali!”_

 Garrus lunged forward, planting splayed talons on the console between Joker and Liara. “What’s happening?”

Joker just shook his head, pointing wordlessly at the bioreadings. CO2 and blood pressure readings shot into the red, and her suit pressurization readings set off a warning klaxon. Panic clutched Garrus’ throat. Suit puncture.

“ _Wrex, get out there and get her, now! Williams, take those assholes out, so_ help _me.”_

They heard the bang of the hatch followed by the roar of the krogan. Without prompting Joker activated Wrex’s internal comm, but Garrus had eyes only for Tali’s biofeed. _Still alive, still alive, she’s still alive._

No words came from Wrex’s throat, only guttural bellows of rage. The crackle of a biotic field momentarily filled the feed with static, followed by the wrench of metal and snap of erupting sparks. A dissonant mechanical bleat did little to calm his anxiety.

Shallow, desperate breaths echoed harshly over Tali’s comm like the roar of a turbine. _Still alive, still alive, stats are falling but she’s still alive._

Wrex’s transponder signal merged with Tali’s, and moments later they heard the slam of the Mako’s hatch.

_“Wrex, get the medkit. Williams, finish off those hostiles!_ Normandy _, we have a medical emergency. Joker, the second we get that AA gun offline you_ _haul ass to that salarian camp, got it?”_

“Course laid in, sir,” Joker said through clenched teeth. “ _Waiting on your mark.”_

_“The colossus are down,”_ Williams said, disbelief audible in her voice. _“Shit, Commander, she did it.”_

_“Take out the rest, then do what you can to patch that suit. Wrex and I are going to clear out the AA tower.”_

Williams didn’t argue.

The Mako rocketed forward, until it reached the foot of the gatehouse, where Shepard brought it to a screeching halt. Moments later the hatch opened a second time and Wrex and Shepard leapt out, transponders converging on the mapped outline of the facility where several enemy units waited for them. The rattle of gunfire mingled with Wrex’s roar.

Inside the Mako Garrus could hear Williams murmuring something low and indecipherable to Tali, who said nothing in reply.

_Say something, dammit!_ Garrus kneaded his talons.

Agonizing minutes later Joker let out a shout as the signal marking the AA gun went dark.

_“Normandy, I’ve got the guns offline!”_

“Roger, that, Commander. _Normandy_ inbound. Dr. Chakwas, report to the cargo bay! We’ve got casualties.”

Garrus let go of Jokers seat and hit the CIC hallway at a dead run, sending three crew members scrambling to get out of his way without apology as he sped towards the elevator. 

 


	39. Amico et Inimico

The roar of engines accompanied the long, sleek body of the _Normandy_ as she streaked past on her way to the salarian camp. Heart still beating in his throat, Shepard pushed the tank’s throttle harder, wheels protesting briefly as they kicked up plumes of sea spray. Wrex had taken over the gunner’s seat while Williams sat in the back with Tali, hand pressed over a medigel patch coating her stomach. The chief had tossed her helmet carelessly aside; loose strands of dark hair plastered to her cheek in sweaty clumps. Though her hands were steady and expression grim, her eyes were pinched with unconcealed panic. Shepard didn’t need to look at a biofeed to know they were in trouble.

Ahead several low, white temporary shelters hunched amidst ragged rock formations lining the shore. No movement caught his eye, but the scanners picked up life signs. Automatically he slowed the tank, peering suspiciously out the windshield.

Shepard had never met an STG unit, but the reputation of the Salarian Special Tasks Group preceded it. What the salarians lacked in lifespan and durability they made up for with shrewd, resourceful intelligence. Put a salarian in an impossible situation and he’d have six solutions within the hour, and the average STG agent was a great deal smarter than the average salarian. They, not surprisingly, preferred stealth and manipulation over brute force. If an STG operative came after you, you wouldn’t know it until after the bullet already had you between the eyes, or more likely, the back of the head.

So as the Mako slewed to a stop, caution overcame his pressing need for haste.

The _Normandy_ touched down a safe distance behind them, sending sheets of shallow water careening away from the vertical thrusters.

“Wait here,” he ordered, reaching for the Mako’s hatch.

“Shepard, she _can’t_ wait,” Williams protested.

“She can if the salarians are going to shoot us on sight,” he snapped.

“Give her to me,” Wrex growled. “If they shoot me they’ll live just long enough to regret it.”

Shepard gnawed at his lip, then nodded, drawing in a deep breath as he settled his helmet over his head and pushed himself up and out of the tank.

No bullets whizzed past, but he didn’t lower his guard as he dropped to the ground with a splash. He scanned the shoreline with sharp eyes, catching no movement but knowing it was there. Tentatively, he raised his hands up to signify his intentions.

“We see you, Commander.”

Shepard’s gaze whipped left, where a green-skinned salarian in a snug fitting hardsuit pointed a high caliber pistol at his head. He didn’t have time to wonder how the hell they knew who he was before he’d even opened his mouth.

“Jondam Bau sent me,” he said, fighting the urge to reach for his sidearm. “I’m a Council Spectre. I have a wounded crewman I need to get to my ship.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t stand down,” the salarian replied evenly, as if they were conversing over drinks at a bar. “Nothing has been what it appeared since we arrived. I’m not exactly prepared to take you at your word. Not yet.”

A peal of thunder sounded in the distance. Water lapped uneasily at Shepard’s feet.

“You want to keep your gun on me, fine. But I’ve got a krogan about to climb out of that tank with a wounded quarian, and he doesn’t react well to getting shot at.”

The salarian’s amphibious lips pulled back in a smirk. “I don’t think anyone does, Commander.”

“He minds more than most.” He motioned towards the tank with one hand, carefully keeping the other raised. He heard the slam of the hatch and the heavy squelch of boots behind him, followed by shuffling as Williams eased Tali out behind him and lowered her down to the krogan’s waiting arms.  Shepard never took his eyes off the salarian, whose jaw twitched ever so slightly.

“You have a well-rounded crew, it seems.”

Behind them he heard the groan of the cargo bay door as the ramp lowered, shouts from Dr. Chakwas, and the muffled voices of Dubyansky and Pakti. Wrex pounded through the water to them, heedless of who might be watching. When he reached the ramp Shepard allowed himself a small sigh of relief. He didn’t hear the Mako’s hatch close; without looking he knew that Williams still sat there, watching the scene no doubt with her hand on a weapon, waiting to see what would happen.

“Are you the missing STG team?” Shepard asked. “We came for the beacon.”

The salarian blinked. “There are a lot of people interested in the beacon, it seems. Why should we care if you want it?”

“Because I’m going to use it to put an end to Saren,” Shepard replied. “We took out the AA gun. We’re here to help.”

“You took out _one_ AA gun,” the salarian said testily, then gestured about them. “Now every emplacement in the entire complex knows you’re here. Like it or not, you’re now stuck here same as we are.”

Shepard swore silently. Of _course_ there were more. And he hadn’t stopped to check because Tali was dying.

“Joker, are you listening in on this?”

There was a brief pause before his comm flared to life. “ _Yes, sir.”_

“Can you confirm the other AA guns?”

“ _Yes, sir,”_ Joker repeated, his swift response telling Shepard he’d had the answer before Shepard asked the question. Possibly even before he’d brought the _Normandy_ in.

“Keep an eye on them. Have Adams take a look at your scans and tell me everything he can.”

_“Roger that, Commander.”_

He scowled back at the armed salarian. “I didn’t have a choice,” he said finally. “My engineer’s life was at stake. But now that we’re here, how about we work together and see if we can’t sort this out?”

The salarian lowered his weapon slightly, and at some unseen cue several more appeared almost out of nowhere, nothing at all to indicate their presence aside from a brief shimmer. All were armed and ready; sniper rifles, heavy pistols, a few assault rifles. He even spied a shotgun. Nearly all wore lightweight but sturdy armor that allowed them to be lithe and quick on their feet. To kill a salarian you had to catch him first, and even if you did the ECM at their disposal made it unlikely you’d get a shot off. Shepard was willing to bet there wasn’t a single one here without a top of the line omnitool that would make Tali swoon.

He ground his teeth at the thought of her.    

“I’m Captain Kirrahe, Salarian Special Tasks Group,” the salarian said smoothly, holstering his pistol. “You, I presume, are Commander Shepard.”

”Yes,” he said warily. “And I see the rumors about salarian intelligence are true.”

The smirk returned. “The rumors underestimate us. But I am surprised that Bau did not come himself.”

“This is my mission,” Shepard replied. “And Bau didn’t know the situation. Only that you didn’t report in.”

“That is unfortunate. If our distress call was not received, Saren is even better at comms disruption than we gave him credit for.”

Shepard’s gut clenched. “Then he’s here.”

“We have not sighted him, but all signs point to that likely possibility.”

“Then we need to make sure he doesn’t leave.”

Kirrahe inhaled, studying the commander with a keen eye. After a moment he strode towards him, offering a hand. Shepard glanced down, somewhat surprised, then lowered his arms and accepted the gesture.

“You’ll have to forgive me, Commander. As I mentioned, nothing has been as it seemed since we landed. And though you may be a Spectre, need I remind you that Saren was as well.”

Shepard glanced warily at the array of weapons still aimed in his general direction. “I see you’re still not entirely convinced.

“Let’s have a chat. While your crew sees to your wounded. None of us are going anywhere anytime soon, so we may as well get to know one another.”

Kirrahe turned and headed back towards the camp without waiting to see if Shepard would follow. Given the number and variety of weaponry still aimed at his heart Shepard figured there wasn’t exactly much he could do to argue. He cast a swift glance back at Williams, gave her a subtle nod, and followed the salarian.   

~

Liara stopped cold at the top of the ramp as Garrus and Dr. Chakwas ran past her after Dubyansky and Pakti, who bore a stretcher between them. Their feet hit the water with a splash as the giant krogan with Tali hanging limply in his arms stormed to them. Wrex hefted her gingerly down onto it, then fixed Pakti with a fierce scowl when he tried to hoist one side. The serviceman wisely scrambled out of the way. Garrus already had his talons on the rail of the other side. Dubyansky scattered just as swiftly as Pakti.

Alenko appeared beside Liara, fully armored and wearing a grim expression. He’d listened to the scene unfold from the CIC, where he and Pressly had been attempting to triangulate the location of the beacon within the facility. Garrus had nearly sideswiped them both on the way to the stairs.

Dr. Chakwas waved a medical grade omnitool over Tali’s chest, barking orders into her comm to the crew in the medbay hastily erecting biocurtains to establish a clean room.

“Single gunshot wound, entry and exit,” she reported grimly. “Structural damage to liver and internal bleeding. I need a trauma unit ready as _soon_ as that clean room is set up!”

As the crew with Tali disappeared into the elevator, silence descended on the cargo bay, save for the lazy spill of waves lapping the ramp.

“What the hell,” Alenko breathed. Before Liara could answer they heard the growl of the Mako cruising towards the ship. When it jerked to a stop the hatch opened to reveal Ashley Williams, expression dark, profanity rolling off her tongue. She tossed her helmet to the floor, then hoisted herself up and out, boots hitting the deck with a smack.

“Ash!” Alenko called, jogging to her. The gunnery chief drew up short at the sight of him, brow creasing briefly before she looked away.

“Shouldn’t have let her do it,” she snapped, slamming a gauntleted fist into the Mako’s hide. “It was a goddamned _sniper._ I was too worried about the destroyer to see it!”

“Ash,” the lieutenant repeated, taking her by the shoulders until she was forced to look at his face. “Where’s Shepard?”

She jerked her head in the direction of the ramp. “With the salarians.”

“Alone?”

“They had the goddamned arsenal of a goddamned turian armada! What was I supposed to do, object? He ordered me back.” She jerked away from Alenko’s grasp, kicked violently at one of the Mako’s tires.

 Alenko muttered something under his breath and strode towards the ramp.

“Wait,” Liara called, heart thudding in her chest. “I’m coming with you.”

When her boots struck the ramp the sharp tang of salt hit her nostrils. The air was warm and thick, but not as oppressive as it had been on Feros. Bright sunshine still shone down over their landing zone, though off to the west gathering clouds reflected a dark, brooding light.

Alenko kept his hand close to his pistol. “Ever gone up against an STG unit before?” he asked under his breath.

“No,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Then it’ll be a first time for both of us.”

But there were none to be seen as they crossed the distance between the _Normandy_ and the camp. Ahead, in one of the low structures set among the rocks like a tooth, Liara spotted Shepard sitting at a table, surrounded by salarians. She touched Alenko’s shoulder and pointed, quickening her steps.

Three salarians shimmered into being, all pointing pistols. Alenko pulled up short with a sharp inhale of surprise. “What the...”

Liara reached out and steadied his arm before he could raise his own pistol. “Light refractors,” she said in astonishment. “Their hardsuits bend light like a mirror – it makes them nearly invisible! I have heard of this technology, but never seen it!”

One salarian removed his helmet and cocked his head slightly to the side. “I do believe that is the point.”

Alenko’s expression darkened. “What are you doing with our commander?”

A second salarian blinked his oversized eyes. “He’s with the captain. We needed to determine that he isn’t indoctrinated.”

“In _doctrinated_?”

Liara’s breath stilled in her throat, thoughts of her mother flooding her mind.

_(Saren whispers in my mind)_

She remembered the meld. The voices. The _wrongness_.

“He has not been close to Saren,” she said, voice hitching slightly. “Or his ship. He is not indoctrinated. None of us are.” 

The three salarians exchanged doubtful glances. “Come with us.”

They followed their pseudo-captors warily to the small structure housing Shepard and a green-skinned salarian. At the sound of their entry both looked up, the salarian captain studying them with an alert, piercing gaze.

“Commander,” he said. “I take it these are yours?”

Shepard nodded. “Alenko,” he said quietly. “What’s her condition?”

“Don’t know yet, sir,” the lieutenant replied, mouth tight. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. I think I’ve managed to convince Captain Kirrahe my brains haven’t been scrambled. Yet.”

“The indoctrination,” Liara spoke up. “Saren’s here, isn’t he?”

The commander turned to her, expression providing all the confirmation she needed.

“The research facility was compromised when Kirrahe and his team arrived. Looks like Saren planted sleeper agents months ago.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “Once his hold on them was strong enough he took it over as a base of operations. They disabled Kirrahe’s ship and took the beacon.”

Liara digested this silently, trying to keep thoughts of her mother at bay. “He needed a research base to study indoctrination.”

Shepard and Kirrahe exchanged glances.

“That is correct,” Kirrahe replied. “On my people, no less.”

_(You must know what I did not.)_

She shuddered. “If Saren is studying it, he intends to expand his use of it. If it truly is reaper technology, there is no telling what the consequences might be.”

“For all we know that’s what they used against the protheans,” Alenko concurred, brown eyes deeply troubled.

“That’s not all,” Shepard went on, sagging slightly against his chair.

“What do you mean?” she asked carefully.

“Well. It complicates things with Wrex.”    

~

Virmire smelled wrong. Too much green. Too much wet. Too much salt. The weak, watery sun paled in comparison to the bold, scalding heat of Tuchanka. And it stank of salarian.

He spat into the water.

Sniveling, amphibious bastards. Too fragile for anything but subterfuge and skulking in shadows. Yet _they_ had been the ones to bring down his people. The turians may have deployed the genophage, but the salarians, even more specifically the STG, were the one’s who’d thought it up.

He trudged into their camp with a shotgun and a glare. When one of Kirrahe’s troops made a move to intercept him, Wrex aimed the shotgun and growled.

“Try it.”

The salarian backed humbly away. Wrex sneered, almost disappointed, then continued towards Shepard. The commander, flanked by the Alenko-human and the asari, sat with the salarian called Kirrahe and four of his men. The cloying smell of apprehension choked the air, and all eyes fixed on him. Wrex shifted his grip slightly on the shotgun as he came to a halt, eying each of them in turn.

“What’s going on?”

Shepard took his time before answering, scrutinizing him with a careful, practiced eye. The same expression Wrex had seen him use on Feros. Noveria. The look of a battlemaster assessing a threat. His hackles rose.

“Saren is using Virmire as his base of operations,” Shepard said finally.

Wrex sniffed. “Then let’s kill him. What are we waiting for?”

Shepard glanced swiftly at his lieutenant. It was a signal between _krant_ , one of trust, one that the Alenko-human, regardless of what Wrex thought of him, would recognize and understand. The lieutenant did not move, but something in his scent shifted, becoming wary and watchful.

“He’s breeding an army, Wrex,” Shepard replied. “A krogan army.”

Wrex stilled, nostrils flaring, blood roaring in his ears. When he spoke there was a suspicious growl in his voice. “How?”

“We don’t know,” Kirrahe replied. “Clones, presumably. But it could also be a cure for the genophage. He has vat grown krogan, fully formed and ready to fight. The compound is crawling with them.”

The krogan’s eyes glittered “A cure. Can that be possible?”

“I have no idea,” Kirrahe replied, with an irritated indifference that set Wrex’s teeth on edge. The salarian had already dismissed him and turned his attention back to Shepard. “All that matters is that he’ll have the might of the krogan to go along with the geth he already has. It will make him near unstoppable. This facility – and everything in it – must be destroyed.”

A quick, searing glance at Shepard’s stoic, unwavering expression told Wrex all he needed to know. Wrex’s lip curled, weight shifting to the balls of his feet. Two of Kirrahe’s escort moved their hands to their sidearms.

“Destroyed?” A rumble sounded deep in Wrex’s chest. “I don’t think so. My people are dying. A cure would save them.”

Kirrahe scowled, while Shepard remained silent, content for the moment just to listen.

“We don’t know he’s discovered a cure,” the salarian countered. “What we do know is that Saren’s behind it. He cannot leave this planet with a cure and a krogan army at his back!”

“I don’t care where it comes from.” He fixed his eye to Shepard. “Or what his intentions are with the krogan. You don’t get to choose to put them down like varren just because they’re _inconvenient_.”

“Letting them live would be a mistake,” Kirrahe argued. “One we can scarcely afford to make.”

“We are not a mistake,” Wrex snapped. Without waiting for a response he turned and left the tent, putting distance between himself and Kirrahe before he put a fist through his ribcage.

A sharp breeze coming off the water struck his face, bringing with it the smell of thunder and an unmistakable drop in air pressure that made his scales tingle. Out on the horizon a gnarled mass of brooding clouds knotted and unknotted in a hopeless snarl.

Redemption. For his people. Here, on this tepid, humid rock. Suddenly all of the apathy and disregard he’d festered against his own kind for decades became something far more dangerous – hope. The krogan had scorned their own future for so long. Imagine what they might do if they somehow got it back.

The rachni had returned. The reapers were coming. A cure for the genophage would put the krogan on the front lines for the most celebrated war in the history of the galaxy. The protheans had failed. The krogan would not.

He glanced off to the east, where the research compound supposedly lay. After a minute or so he heard the heard the tread of Shepard’s boots on the sand behind him.

“This isn’t right, Shepard,” Wrex said, casting a glance over his shoulder as the commander came to stand beside him, eyes trained on the darkening skyline.

“We don’t know it’s a cure, Wrex.”

“There’s a chance. And that’s more than I’ve had in a long time.”

“Even if that _chance_ comes in the form of allying with Saren?”  

Wrex blew a short, scornful breath out his nostrils. “Don’t patronize me. This isn’t that simple and you know it.”

“Kirrahe’s right,” the human said quietly.

Wrex shifted to face him. “I’ve done a lot for you, Shepard,” he growled. “But suddenly the lines between friend and foe look a little thin.”

Shepard pointed in the direction of the compound, voice rising for the first time. “Every single one of those soldiers is going to be indoctrinated. They aren’t krogan, Wrex. They’re slaves. Saren’s pawns. Is that what you want?”

“And you want to draw that kind of damning conclusion based on what? A warrior’s intuition? A vision?”

The sudden roil of anger washing off the human filled Wrex’s nostrils with a bitter sting. Shepard didn’t move, but the hard glint in his eye needed no other accompanying tell. “It’s the right conclusion whether you want it to be or not. We’ve been through a lot so far. I’m asking you to trust me.”

Wrex snarled. “Trust you? A few days ago I stood beside you while you spared my greatest enemy. Now you have the chance to spare a friend, and you, in your infinite wisdom, say it’s a bad idea. Tell me, Shepard. If Liara were standing here, would you change your mind?”

Shepard blanched, and Wrex felt a deep rill of triumph. The asari had power over him. Pheromones didn’t lie.

“Don’t expose your weakness to your enemy, unless you want him to rip out your throat,” the krogan sneered.

Shepard’s stance changed, though the movements themselves was almost too subtle to catch. Chin low, feet set, sidearm within easy reach. “You haven’t seen weakness, Wrex. If you think after what I saw in the beacon, what I know, that I wouldn’t sacrifice you, me, and everyone on this planet to stop what’s coming, you have _woefully_ underestimated me.”

With a roar Wrex drew his shotgun and leveled it at Shepard’s chest, where it met the barrel of Shepard’s rifle. He heard the sharp intakes of breath around them as bystanders took notice, knew full well that Alenko was near, probably with a bead on his heart.  What he really thought of the biotic human’s mettle mattered little – he knew enough not to doubt that if Shepard was threatened, Alenko would try to put a hole through him or die trying.

Let him die, then.

“If you want to mow me down it’ll take a little more than you’re used to,” Wrex growled. “I don’t go down like the thorian. Or Saren’s matriarch puppet.”

Shepard gazed down the barrel of his rifle, eyes clear and sharp, expression ironclad. “You’ve never underestimated me before, Wrex. Don’t start now.” 

“You are not the only warrior here, Shepard.”

“Think about it,” the human urged. “Shiala and Benezia were proof that Saren is indoctrinating his followers. If he’s engineering an army, you damn well know they’re going to answer to him, and only him.  You’ve been pawns of the Council before. How did that work out for you? You take up with Saren, do you really think it’ll be any different?”

Wrex’s eyes narrowed. The painful truth was that the krogan had been nothing but a means to an end from the moment the salarians had uplifted them. Weapons against the rachni. And once the rachni were dead, they became the Council’s mistake. The victories they treasured so clearly had come about at the whim of other races, who had taken them from their planet, pointed them at an enemy and told them to shoot. Then, when the krogan looked for new enemies, they had quickly been collared, chained, and neutered.

For centuries their destiny had been left in the hands of others. The genophage had reduced them to something small, mean and desperate, willing to jump at anyone who offered them salvation.

Shepard was right. By choosing whatever Saren had to offer, he merely perpetuated a long, long history of letting someone _else_ choose his people’s fate.

“No,” he said at last. “An indoctrinated krogan isn’t a krogan. But when we get in there…if we find a cure, I can’t overlook it. And if you think I will, you’d better pull that trigger.”

To his surprise, Shepard straightened and lowered his weapon. “I’ve pulled enough triggers. We have to work together here. The goal is to stop Saren. Nothing else matters. Are you with me?”

Very slowly Wrex lowered the gun. “You’re a battlemaster, Shepard. Whether you have a hump or not.” He straightened, offering the human a scant but acquiescing nod. “All right. I’m with you.”

Shepard exhaled. “Well. At least we can get off this beach without shedding more blood.”

“You’re not afraid of bloodshed,” Wrex said with a scoff.

“No,” the human agreed. “But I do get tired of it sometimes.”

~

Garrus cast a wistful look back at the ship, both wishing he had an open comm to the medbay and thanking the spirits he didn’t. Behind him, the bustle of salarians doling out weapons and cleaning their armor formed an all-too familiar music to his ears. He looked down at the pieces of his sniper rifle spread out across storage crate he’d appropriated for himself as a weapon’s bench and tugged at the tarp he’d set up as a shield against the sand. Its efficiency was questionable, but it would have to do.

His visor scan informed him all of the weapon’s systems checked out normal, save for a few particulates that had already wormed their way inside the casing. He loaded up an ammo block and programmed the gun’s miniframe with the tungsten rounds specifications, complete with phasic envelope. Despite Wrex’s arguments to the contrary, he preferred this setup to the thermite rounds, at least as far as geth were concerned.

He did, however, use the thermite clip for his assault rifle. _That_ was for fighting krogan. He doubted the sniper would see much use against them. A krogan that started at range wouldn’t stay there for long. He could only imagine trying to line one up in his crosshairs, only to wind up with a scope full of angry warlord as a hammer cracked his skull crest in half.

He just hoped the warlord wasn’t Wrex.

According to Garrus’ visor readouts his heart rate had slowed, though his respiration remained quicker than normal for a krogan and his adrenal levels, while lower than they had been minutes ago, had not quite returned to normal.

_If the greater good came at the cost of your own people, what would you do?_

Garrus was glad he didn’t have to answer that particular question.

A southern breeze ruffled his plates, bringing with it a swell of humidity and salt-infused air that made him grimace. The humans seemed to revel in this atmosphere, but Garrus’ armor joints were already taking on sand, and the damp air gave him a headache. The heat was fine. He much preferred the warmth to the bitter cold of a place like Noveria. But he’d rather be back on Therum wandering around a volcano vent than sloshing through seawater. Leave that to hanar.

He ran another cleaning cycle to chase the sand out of firing mechanism and began reassembling the weapon as quickly as possible once it completed.

Liara’s looming presence appeared at his back. A quick glance over his shoulder told him the asari looked about as lost as he felt.

“Is Shepard still with Kirrahe?” he asked, nodding towards the tent.

She nodded, coming to stand beside him, gaze scanning the horizon, occasionally drifting to the _Normandy._ “They’re coming up with a plan of attack, I believe.”

“Tali is going to be _really_ pissed if she misses this,” Garrus remarked. He snapped the cowling of his sniper rifle back in place and hefted it easily in his talons, sighting down the barrel to check the targeting matrix.

Liara rubbed her fingers together, a small snap of static accompanying the blue flicker. “We will make her proud.”

There was an edge to Liara’s voice that hadn’t been there before Noveria. Garrus lowered the rifle. “How are you doing, Liara?”

Surprise crossed her face. “I am fine,” she replied, though the precise, deliberate delivery of each word made him wonder a little. He nodded to the pistol holstered at her side.

“Care to try a few shots?”

She glanced down at the holster, drawing the gun slowly with a firm, resigned grip. Garrus opened his mouth to speak, but before any words got out she’d leveled the barrel on a gasbag floating past on the water and pumped the trigger three times. Several salarians looked up warily as the gasbag exploded in streams of milky white tissue.

“Ok,” Garrus said. “You’ve gotten better.”

“Lucky shot,” she replied.

“Keep at it and a lot of them start getting lucky.”

She turned her gaze to him, the startling blue of her eyes bearing a closed, bitter look that sent a shudder through his plates. Her vital signs were calm. Too calm. Even calmer than Shepard’s. Well. Relatively speaking.

“This is going to get bloody, isn’t it?” she asked, in a tone that informed him she already knew the answer to her own question.

“There does seem to be a trend supporting that theory,” he concurred.

“If Saren is really here…” Her gaze strayed to the pistol still in her hand. It hadn’t occurred to him until right then that to Liara, confronting Saren wasn’t simply about completing their mission. It was about revenge.

“If he’s here, we’ll get him,” Garrus said quietly. “I promise, Liara.”

She offered him a brief smile before her attention drifted back to the camp. To Shepard. Almost as if he sensed it, the commander chose that moment to glance in their direction. Garrus did not miss how swiftly his eyes found Liara, how they seemed to be aware of each other in ways they were not aware of anyone else.

Asari melds were tricky things. Garrus had never experienced it. But it was something no asari he’d ever known took lightly. Though in the case of these two he didn’t think it was quite as simple as that.

Liara went back to her pistol, examining the casing and taking aim at another gasbag. Shepard cast one last quick glance in their direction before turning his attention back fully to Kirrahe. 

Out of the corner of his eye Garrus caught Wrex pacing back and forth in rocky alcove a little farther down the shoreline, the glint of his red eyes even more belligerent than usual. The salarians gave him a wide berth.

Complications, everywhere he looked. One of their crew was out to save his people. One was out to revenge her mother’s death. Another had the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders.

_Better get yourself together, Vakarian._ Then, with one last look at the ship he allowed himself a rueful sigh.    

_Tali, I wish you were here._


	40. Furtim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter update will be 3/16/14! Sorry for the brief delay.

Ashley Williams sat on the beach, fingers drawing meaningless patterns in the sand as gentle waves lapped at her boots. Her helmet sat next to her, shotgun propped in her lap to escape the sand. Behind her, trapped against the glare of the sun, sat the silhouette of the _Normandy_ parked in the surf. Seawater inlets wove their way through rocky peaks capped with green moss, tree canopies rising and falling like green waves off in the distance.

She heard footsteps behind her, knew it was Alenko before he sat down beside her. No one else could be that quiet in a pair of combat boots.

“You know how I always ask why we never go anywhere nice?” she said.

“Yes,” he said, hiding a smile.

“Can I amend that to ‘why can’t we go anywhere nice where we aren’t getting shot at?’ Because I feel like this is just a giant tease.”

He huffed a small distracted sound. When she looked over at him his skin was paler than usual, though he wore his usual sanguine expression. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” he said with a cautious nod. “You just missed some near fireworks with Wrex. It’s one thing when he fights on your side. Whole other thing when that monster shotgun is looking the opposite way.”

“Everyone’s still here, so I assume someone talked him down.”

“For now.”

They both looked up without surprise as Shepard settled in on her other side, tossing a rock in his hand briefly before sending it skipping out across the water with a quick thrust of his arm. “How’s Tali?” he asked once it sank in the shallow depths.

“Don’t know,” Ashley replied. “Dr. Chakwas told me to get the fuck out of the way before she shot me.”

Both of them turned their heads to look at her.

“Ok,” she said with a sigh. “I may be paraphrasing.” 

They sat in companionable silence. Shepard picked up another rock.

“So what’s the plan, Skipper?”

Shepard made his throw, this time getting it to go a little farther than the first. “Kirrahe says they can convert their ship’s drive core into a twenty kiloton ordinance.”

“Nice,” Ashley said. “Make a nuke, drop it from orbit, and Saren can kiss his turian ass goodbye.”

“Not that simple.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course it isn’t.”

“We’re grounded, remember? Kirrahe says the main compound has two AA towers still up and functional. We have to disable the towers and plant the bomb ourselves.” 

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “So you want to assault Saren’s base of operations. That’s crammed full of indoctrinated krogan. With a team of salarians?”

A half smile crossed his lips. “When you put it like that it sounds slightly less impressive.”

“Yeah, it sounds like _suicide_.”

“There _is_ a little more to it than that,” Shepard informed her, hefting another stone.

She watched it go, skipping with the ease of someone who’d given it a lot of practice. “Yeah? Hit me. How do we blow Saren up from within his own walls?”

He picked up an errant stick and sketched a quick, rudimentary map of the compound. “Kirrahe and his men are going to march north through this dale using the tree cover,” he said, drawing a line through the sand to demonstrate, “then swing back around and assault the base from the front. Do whatever they can to draw attention.”

Alenko gave him an exasperated look and pulled out his omnitool, where he called up an actual schematic of the base. “Did you forget how technology works?” he asked. With a quick flash of fingers he created a 3-D outline of the compound and its surrounding topography, lighting up the path that Shepard had referred to.

“The two AA towers are here and here,” he pointed. “The front of the compound is a lot of open ground, with nothing but lowlands behind it. Damn, Shepard. Once they’re out in the open here they’ll get slaughtered. This terrain plays to all of their weaknesses and none of their strengths.”

Shepard pointed. “Not if they put a team of snipers up here on this ridge. He’s got enough men left for three strike teams at his disposal. If they put one up on the ridge, one for a frontal assault and one to flank from here,” he pointed to the western side of the compound, where a series of stone formations offered some form of cover, “they might be able to dig in and hold out long enough for us to do our job.”

“Which is?” Ashley asked.

 “Infiltrate from behind. We’re going to sneak in to the base through this maintenance shed.” He pointed to the schematic. Alenko zoomed in on it and expanded. “The salarians disable the front AA tower, we get the one in the back to allow the _Normandy_ to come in and drop off the bomb here,” he pointed to a water spillway bisecting the facility. “We set the bomb, evacuate everyone we can and get the hell out.”

Ashley scowled. “Seems like the salarians would be better off on infiltration duty, don’t you think? That’s practically their MO.”

She saw something twitch at the corner of Shepard’s eye. He pointed to a marker on the schematic. “Alenko thinks he’s found the beacon.”

Her head swiveled to Alenko, who nodded. “Pressly and I identified a unique power signature inside the facility. It matches what we found on Eden Prime…and if Kirrahe’s schematics are correct we’ll pass awfully close to it on the way to the bomb site.”

“Great. Eden Prime. Part two. Can’t wait.” She sighed. “You realize that’s a lot of ground to cover just to get there,” she pointed out. “And we’ll have to do it on foot. They see your precious tank careening around and bouncing off rocks and our cover’s blown.”

Shepard nodded. “But Kirrahe thinks it’s the best option, and I do, too.”

Alenko exhaled. “The salarians are going to buy us time with their lives.” 

“Part of war,” Shepard replied, tone clipped.

“The blood-dimmed tide is loosed,” Ashley recited softly, “and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned.”

“Well that’s our lovely morbid thought of the day,” Alenko muttered. “Shepard, what does Wrex think about this? If we find the krogan labs, he’s not going to want to just blow it up. He’s going to want to explore. Access their research, see if it really is a cure they’re working on.”

“I doubt it’s a cure,” Shepard said. “What use are they to Saren if he doesn’t have some form of control?”

“There is the whole indoctrination thing,” Ashley pointed out.

“Yeah,” Shepard conceded, “but why take chances? If you have a way to clone yourself an army, why would you go out of your way to remove a built in control chip like the genophage? It makes Saren a veritable god, completely in charge of their destiny. If they follow him, he makes more. If they don’t, he pulls the plug.” He picked up another rock. “It’s what I would do, anyway.”

Ashley caught Alenko’s eye, and they exchanged uneasy glances.

This time Ashley picked up a stone, and watched as it plummeted after only one skip.  

“For now we treat Wrex no differently than before,” Shepard went on. “He’s part of our crew. And my team. But if we get in that compound and discover Saren’s come up with a cure for the genophage, there’s going to be…” He stopped. “We may have to make a call.”

“Wrex won’t turn on us,” Ashley said.

Alenko raised an eyebrow . “Ash, I’m impressed.”

She shrugged, somewhat moodily. “I _know_ him. Wrex’ll do what’s right. He’s a big picture guy like you, Shepard.”

“Maybe,” Shepard mused. “So far we’ve both wanted the same things. I’m not sure what will happen if those interests…diverge. But I’m trusting you two to be ready to make that call.”

“Right. So what you’re saying is we should be ready to plug his ass if he steps out of line.”

Shepard grimaced. Alenko stared unhappily at the sand.

Ashley picked up another stone. This time when she hurled it, a blue halo erupted around it, sending it sailing across the water before sweeping up in an arc and dropping with a splash. She narrowed her eyes at Alenko as the telltale crackle of dark energy faded from his fingertips.

“Show off,” she muttered, then turned her head to Shepard. “We got your back, Skipper.”

“I know,” Shepard said with a slight smile.  

Ashley sighed. “Well. I’ll say this. We’ve stared down geth, krogan, heretofore undiscovered sentient plant monsters, rachni…and here we are on a tropical paradise with an actual support team. Piece of cake.”

He clapped her on the back. “Good. Then let’s go get ‘em.”

~

Joker sat at the table in the mess with Greg Adams, Caroline Grenado and three cups of coffee long gone cold.  All three of them tried not to stare at the medbay door. All three failed.

“She’s never operated on a quarian before,” Adams said, worrying the top of another sugar packet. He’d already added three, and still hadn’t touched the coffee. “Even in a clean room, the odds of—”

Joker shot him a glare. “Why do you have to write someone off when they’re still around?”

Grenado combed weary fingers through her blue-streaked hair, twisting several strands . Joker hadn’t had much contact with the engineer – too many obstacles between the cockpit and engineering – but he’d been in the mess when she and Pakti had serenaded Dubyansky with ‘Happy Birthday’ a few days ago. She’d never looked at his crutches or stared at him when she thought he wasn’t looking, so she was okay in his book.

“You’re right,” Adams said with a sigh. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes, casting yet another glance at the closed door to the medbay. When he straightened up again he put a fatherly hand on Grenado’s back. “She’ll be all right, Caro.”

Joker rolled his eyes. “Yeah, nice save.”

The normally debonair Adams fixed him with a scowl. “Since when do you give a damn?”

“What, just because I’m a little cynical doesn’t mean I’m not human? It’s _Tali_. How do you not like Tali? And besides, she maintains the power syncs better than you do.”

“Adams doesn’t do it,” Grenado spoke up, gaze trained on a ring of dried condensation.

Joker frowned. “What?”

“Power sync maintenance. That’s Tanaka’s job. Tali does it for him sometimes because he sucks at it.”

Both Adams and Joker were silent.

She shrugged a petite shoulder. “Sometimes Tali goes in after him and cleans up the job without telling him. To cover for him. Probably not helpful for him in the long run, but. She does it to be nice.”

Adams’ jaw worked. Joker took a sip of his coffee, grimaced, cast a longing glance at the microwave and decided it wasn’t worth it to get up and fight with the crutches. Wordless, Grenado grabbed his mug and got up to do it for him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled when she handed it back to him.

She nodded listlessly and sat back down. Seconds later the swish of the medbay door brought all three of them to their feet, even Joker, who grabbed awkwardly for a crutch to keep his balance. Dr. Chakwas stood at the entrance, surgical mask hanging from her neck, green eyes keen but tired, a sweep of her silver hair lying limp against her cheek.

“Well?” Adams asked.

She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the door frame. “She got through the surgery. The slug missed the abdominal aorta and liver damage was not as severe as I’d feared. I repaired the internal hemorrhage and sealed the suit.” She sighed. “If she were a human I’d say she’d be fine. But with a quarian, it’s not the severity of the initial damage that causes the problem. It’s the subsequent infection and sepsis. We just have to see if the antibiotics do their job.”

Adams gnawed at his lip.

“Can we see her?” Grenado asked.

Chakwas shook her head. “I’ve got placed her in a medically induced coma to maximize her chances of fighting off the infection. And even if that weren’t the case, I can’t take the risk of exposing her to any additional contaminants.” She offered a wan smile. “Even for a friend.”

The engineer nodded unhappily, and for a moment Joker wished he was the type of person who dispensed the occasional hug.

The doctor tipped her head and activated her comm. “Chakwas to Commander Shepard.”

Shepard’s reply came swift and anxious. _“What’s the news, doc?”_

“The surgery was a success. Now it’s just a waiting game. But I’m sorry to inform you that you’re down a member of your ground team for this mission.”

_“Understood. Is Joker handy?”_

The pilot shifted on his crutches. “Here, Commander.”

“ _We’ve got a plan down here. It’s a little…unorthodox.”_

They heard the unmistakable snort of Williams in the background, followed by a muffled “ _You mean batshit, sir.”_

_“…and it might require a little trick flying.”_

Joker straightened on his crutches. “Trick flying? Finally, an insane plan I can get behind. Just tell me what you need.”

_“For starters, have Pakti and Dubyansky meet me near the cargo ramp. We have a nuke to load up.”_

Grenado’s eyes widened. “Wait. Did he say a nuke?”

“You heard the man,” Joker said. “Someone go find Bert and Ernie. And for chrissakes tell them to be _careful_.”

~

Shepard and Kirrahe watched as two salarians assisted Dubyansky and Pakti with the makeshift nuke. It was crude, but crude wouldn’t matter so long as it worked.

“I’ll send Telib and Reliva to accompany the bomb,” Kirrahe said. “They’ll program the detonation sequence and instruct your crew.”

“Understood,” Shepard replied. “Are you sure you want to do this? Your men are going to get slaughtered.”

“We’re tougher than we look, Commander. But I imagine you’re right. It changes nothing. We have a job to do, and we’ll see it done. My men know what they signed up for.” He cleared his throat. “But there is something I need to ask of you.”

Shepard eyed him warily. “I get the feeling I’m not going to like it.”

“I need one of your men accompany us, help facilitate teams. We’re not familiar with Alliance communications protocols, and I need to be able to remain in contact with you to stay appraised of the situation.”

“I’m already down one member of my ground team,” Shepard said with a scowl. “I’m not wild about being down another.” 

Kirrahe blinked his large, black eyes. “Understood. However this confrontation may come down to rationing troops, and I can’t afford to run out before the job is done if we want to succeed.”

Shepard shifted his weight. On Torfan’s cold, dead surface they’d had to hurl troops into kill zones, their only hope of breaching enemy lines being to simply overwhelm them with numbers. They didn’t have numbers on their side here, but the approach was still uncomfortably similar. Soldiers were supposed to be willing to give up their lives, but the simple truth was that no one wanted to die. To convince someone to march knowingly to slaughter took unquestioned faith in the cause and the person leading them to it. On Torfan, Major Kyle had failed utterly to inspire that kind of faith, all because of a crisis of conscience. Kirrahe wouldn’t suffer from the same flaw.

With a deep breath, he called out to Williams and Alenko, who jogged readily to him.

“Slight change in plan,” Shepard said. “I need one of you to go with the salarians and manage communication between his teams and ours. They need someone fluent in Alliance comm protocols.”

The two of them exchanged quick glances, each fully cognizant of the ramifications of the request.

“I’ll go,” Alenko said quickly.

The gunnery chief shook her head adamantly. “No way, LT. Shepard’ll need you for the bomb. And to be honest, I’d feel a lot better if it was your hands on the nuke.” She glanced at Kirrahe. “Um. No offense, sir. I’ve just been in a tight spot with explosives before.” She looked back to the lieutenant, offering him a small smile. “And Alenko’s pretty damn good in a tight spot.”

In spite of the praise, Alenko scowled. “With all due respect, it’s not up to you to decide.”

A fierce, belligerent expression crossed her face, and she folded her arms defiantly across her chest. “Why is it when people say, ‘with all due respect,’ what they really mean is, ‘kiss my ass?’”

Alenko muttered something in response.

“She’s right about the bomb, Alenko,” Shepard conceded. “I want you to work with the salarians once we drop it off. We’re only going to get one shot. Have to make sure it counts.” He nodded to Williams. “That means you’re up.”

She met his gaze with a solemn nod. “Understood, sir.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Kirrahe said. “Chief Williams, I am assigning you to Aeghor team. You’ll be taking the flanking position on the west side of the compound. Lieutenant Korkhra will be your commanding officer. Your job is to disable that AA tower, if you can. I’ll be with Mannovai team on the ridge. Commander Rentola will take Jaeto team in for a frontal assault.”

“Yes, sir,” Williams replied.

“Commander, ready your team. As soon as the ordinance is secured we’ll be ready to move out.”

Kirrahe walked brusquely back towards the shore, where his teams had assembled on the beach, only about three dozen in all. Far too few for the kind operation they wanted to pull off.  But not a single salarian gathered there looked at their commanding officer with anything less than total conviction.

Williams released a shaky breath. “Okay. So. Here we go, right? LT….just. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“We’ll see you on the other side,” Alenko insisted.

Shepard put a hand on her shoulder. “Show the brass what it means to be a Williams.”

A wide smile spread slowly across her face. “Yes, sir.”

He signaled to the others. Garrus and Liara quickly stowed their weapons and came to Shepard’s side, Garrus watching Williams jog off towards the salarians with a curious flick of his mandible. Wrex came slower, but a quick inspection of his reptilian features revealed no dissension. Not yet. When Shepard outlined the plan the krogan shifted his weight, but said nothing. Garrus merely nodded.

“We’re with you, Shepard. Lead on.”

~

Kirrahe’s men lined the beach, fully armed, solemn eyes riveted to their captain as he paced in front of them. His nasal voice lacked the booming gravitas of someone like Hackett, but somehow it was no less riveting. Shepard again thought back to Torfan, remembering the flagging morale of his men, the look of doubt in their eyes as Shepard leveled the barrel of his pistol against Kyle’s temple, the words that started falling out of his mouth as he tried to pick the pieces back up and spur on the assault.

He’d never had to convince someone to pick up their own sword just so they could fall on it. To this day he didn’t know what the words had been, where they’d come from or even care – all that mattered was that they had worked.

Somehow he doubted Kirrahe trusted his speeches to chance. Every word he uttered, about espionage and influence, rachni and krogan, came accompanied by a measured, deliberate cadence. Shepard watched as his soldiers shifted their feet, straightened their shoulders, gripped their weapons a little tighter and resigned themselves to the task at hand with a familiar mask of cold determination.

_We will hold the line_.

Shepard believed that they would.

~

No one spoke as they made their way through the circuitous canyon south of the base’s rear entrance. Other than the soft lap of water and the occasional song and chirp of birds and insects it was quiet. For now they maintained radio silence; Kirrahe did not want to risk the geth intercepting their comms for as long as possible.

Garrus kept his sniper rifle out, using the scope to scan the walls of the canyon. Canyons were bad news. As he recalled, in the last one he’d ended up as bait for a geth armature shortly before the whole thing got flooded with lava.

He checked his combat scanner again.

Their path covered far more ground than Kirrahe’s teams, which meant the salarians would likely start engaging the enemy long before they reached the base. Behind them the churning storm grew patiently closer, bruising the sky and sending a welcome breeze that chased back some of the humidity and brought with it a cold, clean scent. It formed a sharp contrast against the clear, soft blue sky in front of them, blending with an amber sun only just beginning its downward descent. Framed by the storm, the light it gave off took on a surreal glow, casting long, ominous shadows that shimmered on the liquid surface.

Saren was _here._ Ever since coming aboard the _Normandy_ Garrus’ every move, his every thought, had somehow come back to killing Saren and eliminating one of the greatest threats the galaxy had ever known. And now they might very well be close to either success—or failure.

A thrum of excitement ran through his plates. It had all come down to this. A showdown on a tropical planet on the fringes of civilized space.

“Shepard,” he said thoughtfully. His voice echoed softy off the surrounding stones, causing both Shepard and Alenko to turn in startled surprise.

“See something?” Shepard asked.

Garrus’ mandibles flared in mild embarrassment. “No, sir. Just…a question. Sounds like we’re likely to find Saren inside that base. I just want to be clear that our orders are to take him down.”

Shepard didn’t answer right away. Liara’s fingers flexed around the grip of her pistol, eyes flitting quickly to him and then away again.

“We do what’s necessary for the mission to succeed,” Shepard said finally. “If he forces my hand, or if the only choice is to let him go or take him out, we take him out. But if possible…we need him alive.”

“Alive?” Garrus’ subharmonics flanged with dismay. “Surely we can’t take the chance he lives and gets away. Or worse, manages to sway the Council.”

Shepard’s eyes roved the terrain ahead of them. “You’re right. That’s a risk. But think about it, Garrus. We still don’t know what he’s really after. What the conduit is and why he wants it. How he’s in contact with the reapers. What the reaper’s motivations are. Saren is our only link. Killing him solves _this_ problem. But in the long run it might hurt us. I have a feeling killing one pawn won’t stay the reapers’ hand. The more we know, the better off we’ll be.”

Garrus digested this silently. “I…hadn’t thought about it that way, sir.”

“I want him dead just as much as you do,” Shepard affirmed. “But in the end, the big picture is what matters. Right now we don’t even know what the big picture looks like. Saren’s too big a piece of the puzzle to lose.”

“Understood, Commander.”

“First checkpoint is up ahead,” Alenko said.

“Comm tower?” Shepard asked. The lieutenant nodded.

According to their scans of the terrain they could have bypassed the comm tower by navigating through a narrow pass just to the east of them. The pass was exposed, but the odds of meeting resistance were lower than a comm tower that was guaranteed to be manned. But Shepard had vetoed the idea.

“If we can knock out the comm tower, it might help Kirrahe and his men last a little longer. And we need them to last.”

Shepard signaled to Garrus, who jogged ahead and scaled a rocky outcrop to give him a better vantage point. Using the scope of his rifle, he honed in on the comm tower, barely visible around the next bend.

“Two destroyers,” he reported softly. “A juggernaut. A few troopers.”

“We need to take them down fast and quiet,” Shepard said. He looked over his shoulder to Liara. “How far out can you create a singularity?”

A ghostly blue ripple ran down her arm. “Far enough.”

“Good. I need you to trap as many of them as you can. Alenko, track the stragglers. If you can lift them over the rail Garrus and I will pick them off.” He glanced at Wrex with a half-smile. “You may have to sit this one out. Pretty sure you’ll be able to make up for it once we get inside.”

Wrex grunted.

Shepard jogged to a rock formation opposite them on the other side of the trench and shimmied nimbly up, drawing his sniper rifle and taking aim. Liara followed him, the air around her crackling as she dug into its gravity well.  

 Garrus found himself a vantage point, sighting down the long barrel of his rifle. Alenko came up behind him, his own corona bright and humming.

“I’ve got the destroyer on the left, Shepard,” Garrus whispered into his comm. “Waiting for your signal.”

“ _Now,”_ Shepard called.

A pinprick of blue appeared before the geth, event horizon snapping open with a violent roar. The resulting vortex eagerly sought for the mass around it, first just small objects, loose bits of metal, plastic and debris, pulling them in and swirling them into a storm of hailstones before finally overcoming the geth standing too close to escape the rapidly expanding event horizon. The destroyer Garrus had a bead on stuttered, processing power momentarily disrupted.

His rifle boomed. The air hissed as Alenko reached out and snagged one of the geth with a biotic field, levitating it above the railing long enough for Garrus to put a hole in its chest.

Shepard’s rifle sounded almost like the chirp of a bird in comparison, swift and sharp with a high but deadly rate of fire as he cleaned up the units Liara had trapped in a singularity. By the time they’d put down the majority of the threat and abandoned their position to approach the checkpoint, the only geth platforms still functioning were too badly damaged to put up much of a fight. Wrex crushed their carapaces under his booted foot, growling in disappointment.

“Next time,” Shepard assured him. “Alenko. See what you can do about their comm signal. Disrupt it if you can. Shutting it down will be even better. The longer they scramble in the dark, the better our odds get.”

The lieutenant nodded, accessing the nearest computer terminal with his omnitool out and ready.

Shepard poked at one of the geth corpses with his rifle.

“Tali would have loved this sight,” Garrus said, subvocals carrying a sigh of regret. “I feel like we should take pictures of the carnage. It might cheer her up.”

The commander huffed, smile visible under his faceplate. “She’ll be all right, Garrus.”

Right then Garrus fervently wished humans had the vocal range of turians. The faceplate of his helmet made reading his expression difficult. Did he believe she would make it? Was he just saying it for comfort? Garrus wasn’t sure why it felt so important. Shepard wasn’t an expert on quarian physiology. There was no reason for him to have any insight on whether she would live or die. He didn’t even know the true extent of her injury.

But nonetheless, if Shepard believed it, he’d believe Shepard.

Alenko signaled to Shepard when he finished his work.

“All set here, Commander. I’ve done what I can. We need to move fast before the geth adapt and regroup.”

They headed for the next checkpoint.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem credit to William Butler Yeats, "The Second Coming."


	41. Sanguis

_"Incoming! Get down, get down!”_

Ashley dove for cover under a makeshift barricade of stone and dirt, cursing as another geth flier droned overhead. The fliers were a whole new breed of geth. Larger, smarter and more lethal than the usual drones, and mounted with coaxial turrets that were accurate as fuck. On their first pass they’d mowed down three salarians before Rentola managed to regroup.

The compound faced away from the ocean, fronted by soppy wetland pocked with scant rock formations similar to those found around the salarian camp, only smaller and harder to come by. Kirrahe had planted his squad on a ridge on the far side, while Lt. Korkhra’s squad dug in along an embankment that allowed them to keep an eye on a side entrance and take some pressure off Rentola’s flank. The AA tower was visible on the roofline right in front of them, but breaching the base and getting to it was going to be a lot easier said than done.

Fuck, she wished Shepard were here.

Lt. Korkhra barked a new set of orders, calling for an operational codename she'd never heard of and didn't understand. A young salarian yanked her to a new position to make way for two more who carried a piece of equipment that was some kind of portable EMP weapon.

Korkhra was no Shepard - for one he preferred subterfuge over explosions - but even if she hated to admit it he'd proven to be smooth and efficient, with lighting quick reaction times and an astonishing ability to rapidly assess and adapt to a given set of circumstances. _That,_ at least, was reminiscent of Shepard. Not that Ashley expected anything less from STG. The little known, little encountered salarian task force was about as selective as the Spectres, making up for their lack of numbers with devastating resourcefulness that she hadn’t had an appreciation for until now.

Problem was Korkhra didn't know what to do with Ashley. The concept of carrying _just a gun_ seemed alien to him. She'd had to bite her tongue to keep from informing him she had a lot more than just _a_ gun - she had four - and unlike the rest of the salarians she was wearing armor that could take a hit from a geth rocket and keep kicking. Of course that just mean it was harder to keep up. Salarian armor was light and swift. Ashley was dolled up like a tank. And bunkered down here on the flank she was reduced to little more than her sniper rifle that didn't have the flashy toys Lonhro's did.

A salarian named Dakkornes did... _something_ to the EMP weapon. No sound, no light, no explosion followed, but several geth on the field jerked and fell, drawing a ragged cheer from Korkhra's squad. But it did nothing to slow the krogan.

Saren wasn’t just breeding krogan. He was breeding a _fuckton_ of krogan, and the compound was crawling with them. Ashley gritted her teeth as one of them stampeded a hapless salarian on the field, ramming its crest into the salarian's face. She could hear the bones shatter from here.

_I should be down there._ At least she could _do_ something in the face of that kind of carnage. Krogan battering rams and geth rocket troopers - those were things she understood, and didn't need ECM to take down. Give her a gun and a target, not a foxhole on the sidelines surrounded by tech wizards who brandished technologies she could hardly pronounce, much less understand and use.  Holographic decoys. Refracting cloaks. The salarians had even rigged their omnitools to deploy explosive incineration attacks. They were all reading from a script she didn't have.                                                                        

She was surrounded by frogs and out of her league.

As much as she hated to admit it, Alenko would have been the better choice to send. He at least spoke their technobabble language. The man never left home without a satchel of ECM grenades, a few of which would have been really fucking useful right about now. She tried to remember what he'd told her about programming an overloading charge on Eden Prime. Not that it would matter much. Her omnitool was nothing more than standard grade Logic Arrest.               

_Should have listened to you, LT. Not the first time, won't be the last._       

She leaned out of cover, got a bead on a charging krogan and fired, smirking in satisfaction when the shot took him in the soft cleft under his jaw. She may not have had tech grenades, but thanks to her sparring sessions with Wrex she knew basic krogan anatomy. The unbelievable amount of redundancy in their physiology, from second hearts to extra lungs and backup nervous systems, made it near impossible to take them out without burning through half an ammo block. But if you knew just where to hit them you could still take them down like a stone.

It helped that despite their numbers the krogan were poorly and hastily armored, some running around with little to protect them other than their own leathery hides. Saren clearly hadn’t expected to deploy them at this stage of his game, and it made picking them off a little easier. The newly awakened cannon fodder also didn’t get along well with the geth. The krogan heeded them little, in some cases actively obstructing them if they caught the right scent, and in a couple of places she saw a krogan outright deck a trooper, knocking it so hard with a left hook the cowling caved. Whether it was a lack of communication or simple inability to do so didn’t matter – it gave the salarians something they could use.

She fired off three more quick rounds, scattering a group of krogan getting too close to a couple of salarians trying to neutralize a flock of drones. On a whim she pulled up her comm, isolating Shepard’s helmet radio. “Skipper,” she said. “You doing all right?”

_“Slow going, Chief, but we’re moving as fast as we can. What’s the situation?”_

“We’re hanging in tough, but I’m not gonna lie. If there’s anything else you can do to pull some heat off our backs without jeopardizing your position these salarians would sure appreciate it. Um, me too, actually.”

“ _Just hold on, Chief. I’m about to give you another present.”_

Three fliers zoomed overhead, once again making for Kirrahe’s team. She heard a distant pop followed by a drone going down in flames.

“We’ll take whatever you’ve got, Shepard, but if you see a way to knock out these fliers at the source it would make a big difference. They keep pinning us down like fish in a barrel.”

_“I’ll see what I can do. Hang in there, Ash.”_

“Don’t worry, sir. Kirrahe said to hold the line, so we’re damn well gonna do it. As soon as you breach the base we’re making a push for the AA towers. Gonna get Joker in here, guns blazing.”

_“Roger that.”_

Seconds later the commander made good on his first promise. Every geth on the field appeared to stutter, twitching briefly as though experiencing some kind of hardware failure. They quickly resumed the fight, but with considerably more disorientation than she’d seen a moment ago.

“ _Satellite uplink is down_!” Captain Kirrahe’s voice crackled over her helmet radio, ringing with triumph. _“Something tells me we have our Shadow team to thank!”_

“Thanks, Shepard,” she murmured under her breath.

Korkhra hissed something she couldn’t understand, the welcome turn of events already old news as he spotted a new threat. A fresh unit of geth had emerged from a side entrance and were now attempting to flank the main body of Jaeto team.

“Janneta! Ghofki!” Korkhra barked. “Lure them off Rentola’s squad!”

Two salarians immediately went into action, activating their refractive cloaks and moving to intercept. The lieutenant whipped his head in her direction. “Williams,” he ordered, motioning with a sniper rifle. “You and Lonhro provide cover fire. Whatever happens, don’t let the geth breach Jaeto’s line!” 

Finally. Something she could _do._ “Yes, sir,” she said, gritting her teeth and identifying the right transponder signals, flagging them in her HUD to make sure she could track their movements. 

She slid her way along an earthen embankment serving as cover and crouched next to a doe-eyed salarian, the spidery lines creasing his slick, smooth skin narrower and shallower than most of his comrades. If Lonhro had been human she would have guessed mid-twenties, but what that meant in salarian years she didn’t know. For all she knew she was trusting her life to a twelve year old. Briefly she wondered if Liara ever felt that way about humans.

“See them?” she asked.

He responded with a quick nod, pointing downhill where the subtle distortion of two cloaks making their way towards the front line caught her eye. A geth unit from a side door now moved in position to flank. Ashley raised her rifle, chewing her lip. These units were heavily shielded. Even with the phasic envelope Tali had designed, she didn’t know if it would be enough to slow them down sufficiently to protect the approaching salarians.

Great. Finally her chance to prove something, and she was coming up short.

“Got any ideas?” she said under her breath.

The youthful salarian’s thin, naturally downturned lips tugged upwards in a devious smile. “Prototype ECM deployment. Fires super-cooled subatomic particles to snap freeze targets. Against a geth metal carapace? Shield emitters won’t be modulated to protect from effects.”

“Damn,” she said with an appreciative whistle. “Where the hell did you learn that?”

He straightened proudly. “My mentor. STG legend.”

“Ok. Let's give it a whirl.”

Lonhro activated his omnitool, which had a custom launch rail built into it. The salarian aimed at the nearest geth using a sight he’d fabricated onto the rail. With a flick of his wrist a thin, nearly invisible mist streamed outward. Frost crystals bloomed across the geth’s metallic hide. It staggered. Ashley plugged it with her rifle, the impact of the slug against the supercooled carapace shattering it like glass.

Lonhro crowed with excitement. Ashley nearly joined him. _Now_ they were getting somewhere.

_“Captain!”_ Commander Rentola’s voice poured over the comm, controlled and tight but still brimming with stress. _“They have another unit on the move! If we’re going to make a push for the AA tower we have to do it now!”_

“We still have those fliers to deal with,” Korkhra shouted into his radio. “If we make our move now, there won’t be enough of us left to destroy the tower. Shepard hasn’t even reached the base!”

_Come on, Skipper_ , Ashley thought desperately. Because Korkhra was right. They’d get shredded by those fliers, but another unit of either geth _or_ krogan would spell disaster for Rentola and Aeghor team. Either way they wouldn’t have enough bodies to throw at that gun.

A dull roar rolled over them with the power of a sonic boom. A gout of orange flame reared above the far side of the compound, the violent shudder of heat palpable even from her position.

_“_ Shepard!” she yelled into her radio, heart in her throat. “Are you all right?”  

_“I took care of your flier problem,”_ came the distorted reply. Ashley sagged back against the stony wall of the trench with a bark of stunned laughter.

“Dammit, Skipper, I thought you’d just lit yourself up.”

_“Wrex got a little overzealous with the grenades. We’re closing in on the rear of the base. Just give me a few more minutes.”_

Ashley leaned out from cover to catch Korkhra’s eye. “Get that, Lieutenant?” The salarian nodded curtly, then relayed the information back to Kirrahe.

“ _All teams, prepare to move out!”_ the salarian captain declared.

“Now or never,” Ashley muttered, gritting her teeth and whispering a prayer before falling into step beside Lonhro.

If only her father could see her now. A Williams might have given up Shanxi, but one sure as hell wasn’t giving up Virmire.

~

 Liara may not have had a lot of combat experience to judge by, but blowing up a fueling station didn’t seem like standard practice for an infiltration mission.

Infiltration didn’t exactly play to Shepard’s strengths. The explosion had noticeably brightened both his mood and Wrex’s, who had quickly tired of his passive role. Beacon or no, she couldn’t help but wonder if the four of them would have been better off assaulting the front of the base while the salarians came in through the back. Putting a krogan on stealth detail seemed like a hideous waste of resources. 

At least the explosion had an unexpected yet welcome development – what troops there were guarding the rear of the compound now had their hands full with a raging fire threatening the main facility. They found no resistance at the maintenance bay they’d chosen as their point of entry.

Alenko found an access conduit to hack into the facility’s security systems.

“Disabling their security alarms,” he reported. “No organic life signs inside, but I do see metallic signatures. If you want I can set off an alarm on the other side of the base, draw them off.”

“How many?”

“Less than a dozen.”

Shepard shook his head. “We can handle them. I’m not putting any more heat on Kirrahe than we have to.”

“Fair enough. Then hold tight. I’m opening the door.”

Garrus held up his sniper rifle, the purple glow of his visor flickering as he adjusted the readouts.  Liara rubbed her fingers together, a filament of blue energy circling them like a halo.

“Drop them fast and quiet,” Shepard murmured.

The door slid silently open, followed immediately by the crack of Garrus’ rifle. Between Alenko’s ECM grenades, a well-timed telekinetic yank by Liara and Wrex’s swift, bodily assault, all that remained for Shepard and Garrus to pick off were a couple of stragglers. Liara braced herself for the inevitable angry rush of reinforcements, but in the aftermath the bay remained silent and still. Alenko holstered his pistol and found the nearest active console.

“I’m in,” he said after a few moments.  

"Any sign of the beacon?" Shepard asked, eyes still roving the bay.

Alenko made a frustrated sound. "I'm still picking up general readings but I can't pinpoint it. My guess is they have some kind of shielding around it."

"Keep looking."

Wrex kicked a fallen storage crate out of his path, paused, and sniffed the air. “I smell the labs. How far?”

“Hang on,” Alenko replied, still focused on the console.  

“No!” the krogan retorted. “ _Now._ ”

Alenko looked up with a scowl. “According to the building layouts Kirrahe provided, there are containment cells a level above us. If any of the salarian researchers or Kirrahe’s men are still alive, we might find them there.”

“I don’t care about the salarians,” Wrex argued. “I need to find out what Saren is doing to my people.”

Liara sucked in a breath as Alenko took a challenging step towards the krogan. “We’re about to blow this entire place to kingdom come. If we don’t go after these people they’ll die. The blood of innocent people may not mean much to you, but it means something to me!”

“Enough,” Shepard interrupted harshly, stepping between them with an irritated swipe of his hand. “We have a job to do.”

Wrex snarled and lunged, only millimeters separating his teeth from Shepard’s face. Liara flinched. Shepard leaned in even closer. The krogan’s lip curled. “You do your job, Shepard. I’m doing mine. I’m not putting brainwashed salarians over my own people.”

The commander’s expression did not change. When he spoke, the voice that came out of his mouth was one Liara had never heard before, and never wanted to hear again. Quiet and calm but bred from the same caged maelstrom Liara had sensed during their meld.

“I can’t stop you, Wrex. But if I have to, I _will_ kill you.”

“You can try,” the krogan spat, then strode past him in the direction of the labs.

“Alenko,” Shepard said, eyes still trained on Wrex’s back. “Follow him.”

“ _Follow_ him? And do what?”

“Whatever you have to. Find me that beacon.”

Alenko exhaled, eyes briefly meeting Liara’s. “Yes, sir.”  

~

“I hate to sound callous,” Garrus said as they made their way down into the containment cells, “but Wrex had a point. Even if we find captives, we don’t have the time or the means to escort civilians, especially if they need medical attention. About all we can do for a rescue is open the doors and tell them to run for it.”  

Liara’s eyes widened. That line of reasoning, cold as it was, hadn’t occurred to her. Her eyes flicked to the line of Shepard’s back, still straight and unmoved.  

“If there are salarians being held prisoner I’m not going to leave them here,” he said finally.

_Do they train you for this?_ she wondered. _To reduce the value of a life to battlefield tactics?_

She did not have time to dwell on her thoughts. As soon as the elevator doors opened onto the control room two unarmored salarians rose from their seats, inarticulate sounds emanating from their throats. Liara stifled a gasp as they brandished pistols, barrels weaving in unsteady hands. Shepard held up his palm.

One of them fired. The second joined in, sending bullets ricocheting in chaotic directions, one managing to glance off Liara’s shields. Shepard drew his sidearm, liquid fast, nailing the first in the center of his skull. Garrus took down the second with similar ease. 

“Goddess,” Liara whispered, staring at the bloodied smear one of them had left on the floor. “Why would they…”

Shepard kneeled beside one of the corpses, unfazed. After a brief search he produced an ID card and read it with a deep frown. “He’s just a researcher,” he said. “No connection to Saren.” He got to his feet, eyes filled with unease as he sought out Liara. “Could they have been indoctrinated?”

“I—I’m not sure. My mother was with him for months, and she was still…cognizant. Saren hasn’t had nearly that amount of time with the salarians.”

Garrus cleared his throat. “If he really has been using them all as test subjects, no telling how much he’s learned about the process.”

Liara took another swift glance at the two fresh corpses and shuddered. To slowly lose hold of your own free will, maybe not even realize it was happening…there _were_ things out there worse than death.

Abandoning the corpse, Shepard walked to an observation window overlooking the containment facility below. A row of cells lined the far wall, all spacious and sealed, the lock panels glowing conspicuously red.

“Come on,” he said, unease worming its way into his voice. “We need to see what’s down there.”

~

Wrex did not need directions to the lab.

He could smell it. Antiseptic. Formaldehyde. Astringent. _Krogan_. And something else. He'd smelled it on Benezia. On Shiala, even under the thorian's muck. A thick, muddy oil that stung his nostrils and clung to the roof of his mouth. It was insidious. Tainted. _Wrong_.

And it was everywhere.

Wrex fired his shotgun point blank into the lock sealing the lab. The door pressure seals hissed, but didn't open. Wrex gouged his fingers into the seams and wrenched until the metal gave, then wrested it out of the way and stormed inside, teeth bared, barrier aflame.

Shouts rang out. Nearly a dozen scientists, mostly salarian but at least one turian, looked up in surprise. A salarian bent over a workstation nearest the door yelped and leapt back, hastily searching for something to use as a weapon. Wrex snatched him by the neck, twisted until something snapped, and hurled the body against the wall with enough force to shatter the curve of the salarian’s spine. As Wrex looked around the lab, rage smothered the small whiff of hope that had stirred so briefly in his chest back on the beach.

The sprawling space took up the entire central wing of the base. Research stations. Medical beds. All surrounded by rows and rows of tanks. Suspended within each vat of liquid was the massive shape of a fully grown krogan.

Clones.

Indoctrinated. All of them. That black, noxious stench was enough to make him choke. 

Shepard had been right. Whatever Saren had set out to create in this place now festered in its own disease. Disease that he would willfully inflict upon Wrex’s people. It wasn’t enough to sterilize the krogan and reduce them to something mean and petty, shadows of their former selves. Saren would see them in shackles, mindless abominations.

He thought they were tools.

He thought they were animals.

He thought they were _his_.

And he was _wrong._

“Who _dares_ disturb my work?”

Wrex whipped his head at the sound of the voice, a flare of white hot rage racing from crest to tailbone.

It belonged to a krogan.

Wrex found him near a table on the far side of the lab, beady amber eyes looking out from a head capped by a green skull crest.  Mottled skin sallow with age mapped his skull, and his lips pulled back into a grimace that revealed a line of yellowing teeth. The unarmored hump on his back inspired respect, until you smelled the stink of antiseptic on his skin.

“Who are you?” Wrex demanded, voice raw and low in his throat.

The krogan snarled. “I am Fendot Droyas. And I am here to save our people!”

Incandescent fury burned under Wrexs’s skin. The blood trapped inside his veins began to swell. “Through _this?_ Through cloning? Indoctrination? You pathetic _whelp_. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I have bought us a future,” Droyas roared. “Bred children who will march into battle and restore us to glory!”

Wrex swung his shotgun around to clutch it by the barrel, then took two widening steps and smashed the grip into the nearest tank, a rush of viscous fluid gushing through the shattered glass and cascading onto the floor. The krogan inside of it flopped to the floor like a fish, mouth opening and closing as it struggled to breathe outside of its artificial womb. Wrex flipped the gun back around and put a bullet in its neck, a red gout of blood splattering across his armor.

"We do not _buy_ our future! We fight. Spill blood. We _earn_."

Droyas spat. "You have no vision.”

Wrex's eyes found the turian. Corona gleaming, Wrex charged and seized him by the horns of his crest, yanking upward until he heard a crack and a squelch, followed by the turian’s anguished scream.

"Is this your vision?" he challenged. "The Council exploited us. The turians castrated us. And now one of our own wants to enslave us."

Droyas stalked towards him, seizing a pistol from the nearest guard. "I am offering us survival. My future is the only one we have left!"

With a heave Wrex overturned the nearest lab table, sending equipment and datapads clattering to the floor. The salarian behind it squawked in dismay, then outright pain as the table pinned him to the ground. Wrex slammed a concentrated wall of biotic energy into his chest.

Droyas fired, the slugs sending ripples through Wrex’s barriers. The krogan battlemaster’s scaly lips curved in a sneer.

“I will suffocate your future in a sea of its own blood and choke you with it!”   

Droyas leapt at him, ramming his crest to Wrex’s chest. The battlemaster bellowed, holding his ground and hurling Droyas aside. The old krogan seized a chair and swung it hard, but Wrex caught it in his hands and drove it back at his enemy. Droyas staggered.

Soft. Weak. Wrex could smell the krogan’s craven heart oozing from his pores.

A gauntlet of blue flame bloomed around Wrex’s fist as Droyas regained his balance, bared his teeth and lunged. The air crackled as the shearing biotic field slammed him to the ground. Wrex ground his boot against Droyas’ still-breathing chest and cast a shearing gaze around the room, grinning at the sight of the other scientists staring with gaping mouths.

Wrex’s shot gun blared. The room became a swirling, hissing den of raw biotic energy and death. In the background he thought he heard Alenko yelling, but it blended seamlessly into the bloody haze buzzing in his ears.

When he didn’t have a target to kill he turned his attention to the tanks, shattering the glass with his palms and pouring thick waves of mucilaginous fluid to the floor, cleansing their occupants of Saren’s taint.

Except one. 

Droyas didn’t deserve cleansing.

He deserved to _drown._

~

The cell block was a long, narrow corridor with high ceilings and little light. There were about half a dozen cells in all, each one sealed. No guards. No activity. No noise. No…nothing.

“Hello?”

The soft, eerie whisper raked through the thick silence like nails scraping glass. Shepard drew a pistol, even though there was no one else present. Except whoever was locked in the cells.

“Is someone there?”

Liara turned towards the closest cell. Shepard, too, had pinpointed the source of the voice and strode towards it, the line of his shoulders taut with tension.  Inside they found a single salarian, dressed in a white smock marked with purple and gold striping.

“Who are you?” Shepard demanded.

“Private Menos Avot of the Third Infiltration Regiment, STG, sir!”

“One of Kirrahe’s men,” Garrus murmured. At the sound of the turian’s voice the salarian whipped his head around, oval black eyes blinking madly.

“The captain. Yes. Have to find him. So glad to see you. Please let me out. _Please_ let me out!”

Liara tried to suppress a shudder and failed. “Something is not right here, Shepard.”

“Not right?” the salarian yelped, a thread of hysteria weaving through his voice that made Liara’s skin crawl. “Of course it’s not right! Don’t you hear it?”

“Hear what?” Garrus asked.

Avot splayed his hands against the thick, transparent pane separating them. “Whispers. Won’t stop. Said whatever they wanted to make them stop.” His speech devolved into frantic gibberish, pads of his fingers trembling against the glass.

“Shepard,” Liara said, touching his arm. He jerked and turned towards her, eyes grim. There was no need to say what both of them already knew.

( _Do you hear it?)_

_(Yes)_

_(Don’t listen)_

Avot pawed desperately at the glass and hissed, as though he’d followed their soundless train of thought. “No! I resisted! They poked. Prodded. _Cut._ I have to get out. Make the whispers stop. _I have to make them stop!”_

“Spirits,” Garrus muttered. “He’s mad!”

Liara moved away from the salarian, skin crawling. But two cells down she found something worse. “Shepard!”

He was by her side in an instant, and for the first time since their arrival his expression faltered.  

This cell had five occupants, all salarian. They wandered about the small space, expressions vacant, heads lolling on their necks, hands trailing listlessly at their sides. The cell stank of urine and waste, though the lavatory facility in the rear corner remained clean and unused. The captives either simply hadn’t bothered, or were actually _incapable_ of using them. One or two of them made humming sounds, occasionally breaking into childlike, incoherent babble.

The thrum that came through Garrus’ subharmonics sounded more like a hiss. “Indoctrination couldn’t do this, could it?”

Liara stared at the horrifying scene, unable to pull her gaze away. “My mother described it as subversion of her own will in favor of Saren’s. Shiala saw it as a slow decent into madness. Perhaps this…is what happens when the process goes too far.”

"Take away too much free will and you wind up with nothing but a docile shell," Shepard muttered, a mixture of revulsion and horror playing across his features. "He might as well have lobotomized them."

“What do we do with them?” Liara asked. “We can’t exactly take them with us, but if we leave them they die.”

Garrus raised his chin. “Look at them. They’re already dead. What difference does it make if we leave them here or let them out?”

“They’re still people,” Liara argued.

Shepard scowled. “I’d rather be shot by someone who gives a damn then left to die like this.”

A loud boom shook the walls. All three of them looked around with a start. Avot moaned.

“That could be Saren’s forces,” Garrus said uneasily.

“Or it could be Wrex,” Shepard supplied. “We need to get moving.”

Liara put a hand on his arm. “What about the salarians? They don’t deserve this.”

Shepard cast one last look at the salarians. Then, before Liara could react, he snapped one hand to the lock and disengaged it with a whirr. Five swift shots rang out like tiny peals of thunder. One by one each salarian collapsed in a lifeless heap.

She gasped.

Shepard holstered his pistol, hand resting on the grip for an extra beat, shoulders braced as though expecting a coming blow. But when he looked up wore an expression that dared either of them to protest any further.

Without waiting for a response he strode towards the exit on the far side of the room and didn’t look back. 

Liara gazed after him, feet rooted to the spot until Garrus nudged her. She drew in a ragged breath, casting one last glance at the five dead bodies still warm on the floor. 

~

By the time Kaidan reached the lab, it was too late. Wrex had taken off like a juggernaut, guided by scent or luck or something else altogether. When he reached the elevator to the labs the krogan had already begun his descent, forcing Kaidan to wait. But before the doors had even opened he could hear the carnage taking place. And when they had opened…

He’d killed them all.

Blood swirled in the sticky residue left from the tanks, glazing the floor of the lab in streaks of watered down red and saturating the tunics of the dead scientists he left in his wake. The body of Fendat Droyas floated in one of the remaining tanks, amber eyes wide and sightless. Kaidan felt the neck of a salarian for a pulse, not even sure if that was the right place to look. Didn’t matter. He was dead. 

The sharp snap of shattering glass punctuated the air as Wrex destroyed the rest of the tanks. Barrier ablaze, Kaidan sought for the nearest intact console, picking his way around the corpses to get there. He had to roll part of a salarian away with his boot.

The only thing more horrifying than what the krogan had done was how easily he had done it.

One wary eye stayed on the krogan, who had not so much as acknowledged Kaidan’s presence. Maybe for the better.

He forced numb fingers to work the console. _The mission. Focus on the mission._ His omnitool readings indicated the beacon was close. Saren would have it hidden. Protected. Even in this fortified compound, he would remember Shepard and Eden Prime.  

A small sound – tiny thump overlaid by a muffled gasp – brought the krogan storming to an overturned desk.

“No! Please! Stop! I can help, I can help... _wait!”_

Kaidan caught a quick flash of blue before Wrex dragged a squirming asari out from her hiding place by the throat. She gurgled as Wrex hoisted her off the ground, feet kicking feebly.

“Wrex!” Kaidan shouted. The krogan ignored him. Kaidan leapt over the console, pistol aimed at an exposed joint in the armor near the krogan’s neck. “Put her down, Wrex. _Now._ ”

Wrex snarled and turned his head, the asari still dangling with her feet off the floor. “You don’t get a say in this, human.”

 “We need that beacon," Kaidan retorted, the moisture in his throat tasting like tar. "If she knows where it is we need her."

A guttural sound rose from the krogan's chest.

Kaidan tightened his grip on the gun. "Don’t make me shoot you.”

The krogan laughed, a mirthless sound that made Kaidan’s skin crawl and dropped the scientist back to the ground. The hand around her throat didn’t loosen. “I could crush every vertebrate in your spine before you even dented my armor.”

“Probably," Kaidan replied, blood roaring in his ears. "But my mission doesn’t change. Let. Her. _Go.”_

A second passed. Wrex’s red eyes glinted, pupils reduced to narrow slits. With a glower, he opened his fingers. The asari fell to her knees, pawing at her neck and gasping for breath.

“You owe him your life,” Wrex informed her. “Tell him what he wants to know.”

Kaidan took a step forward, eyes shifting between the two of them and pistol still ready, though he wasn’t sure who to point it at.

“My name is Rana Thanoptris,” she said, the words tumbling out fast and hoarse. “Saren hired me to study the effects of indoctrination.”

Wrex stirred. Thanoptris cringed.

“Look at me, Rana,” Kaidan coaxed her. “I need you to tell me what you know.”

She swallowed. “He wanted to know how it worked. How much…proximity before you felt the effects. If it could be slowed. If it could be stopped. Manipulated.”

Wrex turned his predatory gaze towards Kaidan, lips curling. Kaidan took a deep breath. “And what did you find?”

She shook her head. “That it’s absolute. Once it starts, no matter how slow, it _doesn’t stop._ ”

A chill raced down Kaidan’s back. His fingers flexed against the grip of his gun.

“Please,” she begged him. “You have to help me. I didn’t know what I was getting into. These _test_ subjects! It gets in their brains, whispers in their ears. They hear it in their sleep, like someone scratching at a pane of glass.” A choked sob ripped from her throat. “I don’t want to be that. And I will. You can’t stop it. You can’t _stop_ it.”

“What about the beacon?” Kaidan interrupted, voice harsh and unfamiliar to his own ears. “It’s here somewhere.”

Thanoptris wiped her nose and nodded. “Saren has a secure office. It’s not far.” She hastily activated an omnitool. “I have the entry code. I can—I can get you in. Please.”

The blare of Wrex’s shotgun sent a deafening echo throughout the cavernous lab. Rana Thanoptris’ expression froze in surprise as the force of the slug flung her back, purple blood dribbling from half a dozen holes in her chest.

“ _Wrex!”_

Shepard’s voice rang in the air. Kaidan glanced swiftly over his shoulder to see the commander enter the lab with Garrus and Liara at his back, all with weapons in hand.

The battlemaster grunted. “This had nothing to do with you, Shepard.”

“The hell it doesn’t.” Shepard’s eyes never left Wrex, barrel of his rifle holding sure and steady. “You disobeyed an order and put the mission in jeopardy. Like it or not, if you’re with me you _answer_ to me. If you can’t follow my orders you’re a liability I can’t afford.”

The krogan stared him down just as viciously, but some of his fury had abated. He stooped down to Thanoptris’ cooling corpse and held up a limp arm, still bright with the glare of her omnitool. "Take whatever you need. I've done what I came here to do."

Kaidan tore his gaze away from the corpse, forcing himself to scan her omnitool for the location of the office and the secure frequency that would open the door. All there. She hadn’t lied. He glanced back at Wrex, who nodded curtly and dropped her arm. 

“Time to find Saren and make him pay.”

 


	42. Orobouros

Joker rested his elbow on the control console, feet fidgeting anxiously as his attention shifted from the transponder signals of the ground team to the area scans.

Crewmates still getting shot at. AA guns still active. Ship still grounded. Still nothing he could do. He ground his teeth.

One of the transponders winked, a red ring appearing around it that signified a hardsuit breach. Joker’s hand shot for the comm.

“Williams. You still intact?”

“ _Just fucking peachy over here. These metal scrapheaps never fucking end.”_

“I’m reading a –”

“ _Never mind what the goddamned transponder says. Everything’s fucking fine. Salarian blood looks great on my armor.”_

“So long as it isn’t yours,” he replied, hoping the tension in his voice didn’t carry over the comm.

“ _I’m a fucking savant at this job, Joker. But if Shepard wants to hurry the hell up and knock out one of those AA guns I wouldn’t complain. We’re about to make our push for the tower. It’s starting to look like a one way trip.”_

“Hey. You still owe me dinner. Talk like that again I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“ _If you can find it in this mess._ ”

Joker closed his eyes. “Soon as Shepard gets to that bomb site we’re coming for you. So stick it out a little longer, Chief. Got it?”

An alarm sounded on his console. He turned his attention to it almost reluctantly, eyes widening as Pressly came running into the cockpit. “Joker, do you see—”

“Yes,” he replied tersely, quickly flipping his comm over to Shepard’s frequency. “Shepard! Commander, can you hear me?”

“ _I’m a little busy, Joker.”_

“Well you better sort it out quick. We’ve got company. That dreadnaught we love so much just entered the system. It’s on its way here. _Fast_.”  

~

Rana Thanoptris’ authorization had been good. The problem was there did not appear to be anything in Saren’s office worth finding. Shepard pulled off his helmet and scanned the blank walls and unadorned desk with a critical eye.

“The only day my desk ever looked that neat at C-Sec was the day I got my office,” Garrus remarked.

“I doubt he spent much time here,” Shepard replied, slowly circling the desk. “In fact I’m willing to bet he didn’t spend much time on Virmire, period. Not if he was studying indoctrination.”

Garrus’ mandibles quivered. “How do you figure, if he was using it?”

He felt Liara’s gaze settle on him.  “You think he’s afraid of it.”

Shepard looked up at her and nodded. Thanoptris’ fear had confirmed the suspicion slowly growing in his mind.  “I think he’s tapped into a force he doesn’t understand. Now he’s worried he can’t close Pandora’s box again, and wants to know how to protect himself from the consequences.”

He glanced briefly at Wrex, who stood still and stoic near the door. Ever since the scene in the lab he hadn’t said a word. Shepard had a few words on his mind, but now wasn’t the time.

“Shepard,” Alenko said quietly, omnitool out, helmet tucked under his arm. “I’m reading an unusual power signature behind this wall.”

“The beacon?” Shepard asked sharply.

The lieutenant nodded. “It matches the readings we got on Eden Prime.”

“Can you get through the door?”

“You bet, Commander.”

As Alenko manipulated his omnitool, Shepard’s comm flared to life.

_“Shadow team. We’re nearing the AA tower. Jaeto team has taken heavy casualties._   _Mannovai and Aeghor teams moving in to shore up their flanks. I think we can make it, Commander, but the timing is critical. Can you get the other tower down? We need to get that bomb in position.”_

The door slid open under Alenko’s swift working hands. He glanced wordlessly back at Shepard.

“We’ll get there,” Shepard replied into the comm. “But I think we’ve found the beacon. I need you to hold out a little longer.”

A brief silence followed. When Kirrahe’s voice echoed back once more its tenor had not changed, still bearing the quiet resolve he’d spoken to his troops with. “ _I hope it’s worth it, Shepard. We will hold the line._ ”

“It will be,” Shepard replied, with only the slightest hint of regret. 

“Shepard,” Alenko said as he walked past and into the room that lay beyond. “Williams is out th—”

“I know.”

To Alenko’s credit, he covered his flinch well.

The room beyond Saren’s office was larger than he expected, an open atrium spanning two levels empty save for a platform jutting out over the center of the space with a communications panel. Below it, accessible by two ramps on either side, sat a familiar spire emitting a hazy green glow. A thin, cold sweat broke out over his skin, the very sight of the beacon drying out his throat until it felt like sandpaper.  

“The beacon!” Liara exclaimed. “It _is_ here. Goddess, Shepard. It still looks intact!”

Shepard headed quickly to the base of the ramp, hoping to activate the beacon before he thought too hard about the consequences.

“Shepard!”

Because that was what Alenko was for. 

Shepard ran his tongue over dry lips.

_(the monsters are awake and they set the stars ablaze)_

 “We can’t take it with us. There’s no time. I’m using it.”

“We still have to disable that gun and set a bomb,” Alenko argued, taking a few defiant steps towards Shepard and putting a hand on his arm. “Last time we encountered a beacon…sir, that’s a risk I’m not sure we should take.”

“I appreciate the concern, LT, but I don’t see how we have a choice.” He met the biotic’s liquid gaze, forcing the apprehension away and crooking the corner of his mouth up. “Hopefully this time it won’t explode.”

“And if it does? Shepard, we can’t finish this without you, and we can’t carry you out of here.”

Shepard straightened a little, some of the knots in his stomach loosening just enough. He lowered his voice. “That’s why you’re here, Lieutenant. If it doesn’t…work out, the mission’s yours. Get everyone out of here. Understand?”

Alenko nodded stiffly. “Yes, sir.”

Shepard nodded with what he hoped was encouragement. “It’ll be fine. Get ready.” 

“One day maybe we’ll encounter a beacon where a bomb isn’t involved,” Alenko said with a sigh.

“Don’t count on it,” Shepard replied, then inhaled deep and approached the beacon.

Its soft hum got louder with each step. He could sense the energy bleeding off the narrow spire even before the familiar itch at his teeth and pressure tightening around his brain. The lazy green effluvium hovering around its point billowed suddenly then snared him like a noose, filling his eyes and nostrils like swirling black water, then seizing his arms, his legs, his chest, his _mind_.

_(THEY SPEAK WITH RED FIRE AND THE BLOWING OF HORNS)_

~

Ashley swore, ducking as masonry chips exploded over her head. The geth had finally figured out what they were doing, and _really_ didn’t fucking like it.

 They had hoppers _everywhere,_ flying around like ping pong balls to flush salarians out of cover and expose them to snipers. All around them the oscillating whine of pulse rifles formed a never ceasing curtain of near-rhythmic sound. The oily reek of burning fuel filled her nostrils, colliding with the sour smell of sweat and blood. Salarian blood, she had learned, had a sweeter, mustier smell than human blood that made her stomach turn.

The geth’s mobile, blue hexagon shields didn’t interfere much with the tech-savvy salarians, but it provided enough of a distraction to slow them down and waste precious seconds. Those seconds added up.

Yet somehow they’d made it to the tower. Some of them, anyway. Most of Jaeto team had given their lives to allow Aeghor a chance to infiltrate the compound. Behind them the remnants of Renotla’s squad lay scattered in a haphazard nightmare of torn limbs and scattered entrails slathered with a heavy paint of green blood. Close combat with krogan was far messier than it was with the geth.

But despite the sacrifice, the geth had been waiting for them by the time they reached the tower. The AA gun remained online.

Korkhra was dead. One of the hoppers had put a hole through his head while he tried to drag one of his downed men to safety. Another salarian named Teuffel had taken over command, with Kirrahe using Mannovai team to try and breach another area of the base in hopes of drawing away some of the enemy fire. Either it hadn’t worked, or Saren had a lot of goddamned geth.

She grimaced, checking the field patch over her thigh. The seal had already cracked – what did she expect for something she’d devoted an entire five seconds to – with jewels of bright, red blood leaking slowly but determinedly around the edges. Sharp lances of pain stabbed down through her ankle and back up to her hip. She triggered a dose of medigel, not sure how much good it would do, or for how long it would do it. 

Things were spiraling out of control. Fast.

Beside her Lonhro frantically tried to repair the light emitters of his refracting cloak. “If I can get it to work I can get to the gun!” he stuttered through chattering teeth.

“Are you out of your mind, we—”

Something small hit near their feet with a clink. Ashley shoved Lonhro out of the way, using the force of her own body to propel both him and herself out of the way of the grenade. An explosion of heat slammed her in the back, bowling her over until she and the salarian were a tangled mess of limbs and smoke. She coughed, vainly struggling to pull in a breath.

“Lonhro! Williams!” she heard Teuffel call out over the geth’s discordant chatter. 

“Still here,” she wheezed. An errant shot whipped past her head, as loud as her own heart hammering in her ears. Her voice grated ragged and raw against her parched throat. “Lieutenant! If we don’t get that gun offline we’re all going home in body bags.”

Teuffel hissed, narrow mouth twisting into a scowl. Thick, emerald streamers clung to his hardsuit. Ashley didn’t know if it was his blood or someone else’s.

“The weapons specialists we were going to use to disable it are dead!”

“Then blow the damned thing up!”

“With _what?”_

“The super coolant,” Lonhro gasped out, sitting up and trying to regain his bearings. “You have thermite rounds, yes?”

“I’m listening,” Ashley said. “Talk fast!”

“Thermal fatigue. Shoot the base! Run out your heat syncs. I’ll coat the AA gun with coolant. Two, maybe three cycles of heating and cooling might weaken the base enough it no longer supports the gun’s weight. Whole thing collapses!”

Fucking salarians. And to think thirty minutes ago she’d been regretting this whole thing. She glanced back in Teuffel’s direction. “Catch all that?”

He nodded. “We’ll cover you.”

Ashley signaled to Lonhro, who loaded his launch rail and sucked in a deep breath. “It’s not a single shot,” he lamented, “but we’ll do honor to the Silent Step.”

She rose out of cover and opened fire, assault rifle blaring so loud it drowned out the geth. The mobile shielding the AIs has erected around it bruised, their surfaces shimmering from blue to orange like a sunset before evaporating under the barrage. Immediately glowing dimples from the thermite rounds appeared in the metal cowling of the AA gun. Her heat syncs trilled a warning. “Now!” she yelled, squeezing off a few more rounds and then ducking back into cover to let the gun cool.

A whisper of distorted cold blew past like a supersonic gale of wind, hitting the gun mount with a sharp hiss like splintering glass. The dimples seethed red then guttered out.

“Again!” Lonhro shrilled.

Ashley laid on the trigger once more, an eruption of accelerated slugs spewing from the barrel. The rattle of the salarians’ cover fire sounded dull and distant in her ears overtop the whine of geth pulse rifles, creeping closer and closer as they realized the salarians’ strategy.

A blast of heat sucked the air dry around her as a rocket trooper unloaded its payload to her left. Amid the sounds of the salarian cries Lonhro unleased a second round of coolant. The gun mount groaned, a series of pops ripping through fresh divots in the metal. 

This time Ashley didn’t wait for the heat syncs to fully recover. She poured bullets into the weakening metal, relentlessly pushing the sinks to the redline, finger still madly jamming the trigger even as the gun sputtered and quit, steam hissing from the coolant vents and smoke spitting from the barrel, hot to the point of burning in her hands. 

The gun mount buckled, metal grinding metal in grisly, ear-splitting sonance. As the weight of the gun collapsed in on itself a ragged cheer went up among the remaining salarians. Ashley’s sigh of relief lasted only until a sharp, blinding spear of pain ripped through her side and knocked her feet out from under her. The shield failure klaxon wailed in her ears and she fell, swearing and clutching at the hole in her hardsuit, head smacking the concrete with such force it loosened one of her helmet seals. 

Lonhro yelped and grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her back into cover and firing a pistol with his other hand.

“Where’s…where’s Teuffel,” she slurred, as the cold gush of medigel coursed over the wound, some of it leaking out the hole in her hardsuit like a cloudy glob of puss.

“He’s dead!” Lonhro shrieked.

_“I’m reading the AA gun is down!”_ Kirrahe’s voice on the other end of the comm wasn’t as good as hearing Shepard’s, but it was close. “ _Can someone confirm?”_

“Yes, sir,” Lonhro exclaimed. “Emphatically, sir!”

“ _How many left?”_

Lonhro looked around in a panic, his three fingered grip tightening on Ashley’s arm as he took in the carnage. Teuffel was dead, all right. The geth rocket had gored him right through the chest, wrenching his torso right off legs at the hip. What was left of his jaw dangled unhinged from his skull, slivers of green-stained bone gleaming out from under charred, blackened skin.

“Not…not many, sir.”

He didn’t say it, but Ashley knew the next question on his mind was the same one as hers. _Now what?_

_“Fall back, then! Everyone fall back to Mannovai’s position!’_

Ashley put a hand to her side and hissed, slapping the ground to drive away some of the pain.  “Fat chance of that,” she gasped. “Think I’ll just stay here awhile.” She pawed at her comm. “Shepard. Skipper, you there?”

It was Alenko who answered her, which simultaneously brought relief and a sick flood of dread. _“Ash. You ok?”_

“Got one of the AA guns down. Next one’s all you.”

“ _What’s wrong? Ash, I’m looking at your biofeed.”_

“Don’t do that,” she advised, swallowing with effort. She ran her tongue across dry, pale gums, tasting a hint of copper at the back of her throat. “Just a scratch. M’fine. But honest, we could use a hand getting out of this mess. Don’t think…I don’t think we’re getting out the way we came in.”

“ _Soon as we get the other gun down we’re coming to you. Got that?_ ”

“Don’t forget the bomb. Pretty sure that’s important.”

_“We’re_ coming _for you, Ash.”_

She closed her eyes and squeezed out a tear. She’d give anything just to hear him keep talking. “You do what you have to do, LT.”

_“Hang on, dammit. Do you hear me?”_

She smiled a little. “I hear you.”

Lonhro placed a long-fingered hand on her shoulder. “We can do this,” he said earnestly, adrenaline sending tremors through his hands.

Ashley reached for her fallen assault rifle and clutched it to her chest. “Damn right we can.”

~

Shepard’s world spun as Liara helped him to his feet. His limbs felt like lead, though a lingering spate of energy still crawled uncomfortably under his skin. The pounding in his skull threatened to split it right open. He sucked air through his teeth as his balance reeled, threatening to cast him right back down to the ground. Vision dancing, he found Liara’s arm and clutched it like a vise. She slid her shoulders under his arm, grabbed his hand and looped it around her neck.

“Shepard?” she asked, eyes anxious and searching. She’d pulled off her helmet and dropped it at her feet.  “Are you all right?”

 

_(he is small and screaming, knife in his hands, shards of glass catching in blue curtains over the sink. blood everywhere, so much blood)_

“Shepard.”

_(blue eyes, cold fingers that reach and tear they have her hair in their fingers, red strands full of blood they’re coming for him husk husks why is it husks it shouldn’t be husks!)_

 “Shepard!”

( _horns horns he hears horns everywhere, horns that cry out with tongues of red fire. there’s a knife in his hands and he’s running, running, keep going don’t stop, she told you to run it’s not your fault she told you to run)_

Liara squeezed his hand, the soft, gentle pressure somehow greater than the crushing pressure on his lungs. Her warm breath washed against his ear.

“It’s all right,” she whispered. “I’m here. Just breathe.”

_(We’ll close it together.)_

Her other arm slipped across his back, fingers hooking firmly around the waist of his armor. “It’s all right,” she repeated, voice low and soft. “I’ve got you. Breathe.”

He pulled air into his lungs. Pushed it out again. Gradually his respiration began to slow. The room stilled.

Inhale. Exhale.

Dimly he became aware of Garrus and Wrex looming close by, Alenko shouting into the comm.

The beacon was still there. Lurking there in the back of his brain. A dark shape waiting for the chance to _push_.

_Not yet. Not today._

He shifted his weight away from Liara and back onto his own legs. They held.

Inhale. Exhale.

His ears still rang, but it wasn’t the horns.    

“Shepard.”

Alenko’s voice cut through the fog. He stood halfway down the ramp, one hand gripping the handrail so hard it shook, face pale, tension coiled around his shoulders.

“It…didn’t explode this time,” Shepard managed, though with the pounding in his head he had to look at the beacon once more just to be sure.

A strained half smile passed his lieutenant’s face. At the top of the ramp, both Garrus and Wrex, standing silent and ramrod straight, relaxed a little.

“Your vitals are stabilizing,” the lieutenant said after check of his biofeed. “But Dr. Chakwas is going to kick my ass for letting you do this.”

“What’s wrong?” Shepard croaked, motioning to the comm.

Alenko inhaled through his nose. “We just heard from Williams, sir. They’re pinned down on the AA tower.”

With a scant nod Shepard follow him unsteadily up the ramp. But as he reached the top Garrus stopped him, frowning down at the control panel on the raised platform. “Shepard,” he said, a note of hesitation resonating in his subvocals. “I think you need to look at this.”

Shepard came to a stop beside him, hand to his temple. “What is it?”

“I’m receiving a coded signature. It’s coming from orbit.”

“Orbit?” Shepard said sharply, some of the lingering haze abruptly chased away. “There’s nothing _in_ orbit.”

“Joker did say the dreadnaught was en route,” Liara supplied.

“Couldn’t be here that fast,” Garrus declared. A mandible twitched, confusion creeping across his brow plates. “Could it?”

Shepard brushed the panel with his fingers until he isolated the transmission. On the other side of the panel a series of holoemitters flared to life, a collation of scarlet light resolving into a tapered, oblong shape that grew broad and flat in the middle girded by a row of claw-like appendages. The hair on the back of Shepard’s neck stood up, a sense of foreboding crawling through his skin as the shadowy forms from the beacon coalesced suddenly and violently into a recognizable form.

“Spirits,” Garrus murmured. “Is that…Saren’s _ship_?”

A monotone voice, cold and dead, boomed from the comm, echoing across the bare paneling of the room.

_“You are not Saren.”_

“No,” Shepard murmured, clenching his fists to still the latent tremor running through his hands.

( _the monsters are awake)_

The blood in Shepard’s veins turned to ice. “And you are not just a ship.”

Rills of red light shimmered through the projection.

_“I am beyond your comprehension.”_

Liara exhaled. Shepard swallowed, the moisture sticking to the back of his throat. “Sovereign isn’t just something Saren found. It’s an actual reaper.”

No one moved. Shepard couldn’t even breathe.

( _the monsters are awake)_

The projection – _Sovereign_ – spoke again.

“ _Reaper is a label created by the protheans to give voice to their destruction. In the end, what they chose to call us is irrelevant. We simply are._ ”

_(patient, constant, relentless)_

Garrus’ subvocals flanged with doubt. “You’re trying to tell us you’re a fifty thousand year old relic.”

Not a relic, Shepard thought. Worse.

_(there are empty spaces between the stars)_

The light emitters flashed. The droning voice spoke. Shepard felt it in his marrow.

_“Organic life is nothing more than a mutation. An accident. Your lives are measured in mere years and decades. Your cosmic significance is infinitesimal. We are eternal, the pinnacle of existence. The end of everything.”_

_(the monsters are awake and they set the stars ablaze)_

Beside him, Alenko stirred.

_“Your extinction is inevitable.”_

“Maybe,” Shepard replied, voice like sandpaper scraping against his tongue. “But not by you.”

The dead voice of Sovereign had no inflection. No fear. No arrogance. Nothing that Shepard knew how to work with or exploit. It simply…was.

_“The cycle cannot be broken.”_

Liara took a small but resolute step forward, expression dark. “Cycle of extinction. I was right. Wasn’t I? All those fragments. The pieces that didn’t make sense.”

_“The pattern has repeated itself more time than you can fathom. Organic civilizations rise. Evolve. They discover our technology. Use it. Advance until they reach the apex of their glory. Then they are extinguished.”_

“ _Your_ technology?” Alenko said sharply.

Shepard’s mind raced. Cautiously he dug through the malaise of the prothean vision, railing against dizziness that swirled as he scratched his way past its muddled surface.  

_Context. It was always about context._

And he _saw_.

_(we are prothean and we traverse the stars)_

But they had not pioneered those pathways. Blazed their own path into the unknown. Just as humans had done, they found the path already open and waiting for them.

_“The protheans did not forge the mass relays,”_ Sovereign intoned _. “The Citadel. We did. Each cycle discovers them. Shapes their development around them along the paths we desire. Thus offering us the means to begin our harvest.”_  

_(descend like locusts)_

“Why?” Shepard challenged. “What could you possibly gain by slaughtering organics?”

_“We impose order on the chaos of organic evolution. You exist because we allow it. You will end because we demand it.”_

Shepard leaned towards the projection. “If you’re so damn advanced, then why do we even matter to you? Why even care that we exist at all?”

_“We transcend your very understanding. We are each a nation. Independent. You cannot grasp the nature of our existence.”_

“That’s helpful,” Wrex muttered.

“ _We have no beginning. We have no end. We are infinite. Millions of years after your eradication, we will endure. Our return is imminent. Our numbers will darken the skies. You cannot escape.”_

( _they are coming)_

“You’re a machine,” Shepard said through clenched teeth. “Machines can be broken.”

“ _I am the vanguard of your destruction. False hope and empty words will not deliver you. This exchange is over.”_

The link closed, the light from the holoprojection scattering into embers.

The silence left behind was thick enough to choke on. No one moved.

Garrus’ subvocals thrummed as the turian drew in a deep breath. “So…now what do we do?”

Shepard stared at the silent comm panel for a few moments longer, then lowered his chin. “We blow this place to hell. Then we find Saren and kill him. Find Sovereign and kill _it_.”

“I like this plan,” Wrex said.

“Let’s take down that AA gun and get out of here.”

But even as Shepard shook off the languishing pangs of dizziness, forcing his steps to fall steady and sure, something lingered just outside the terminus of his consciousness.

The dark crater left by the beacon rose up…and pushed.

 

 


	43. 0.00

When Saren’s dreadnaught appeared on their sensors, Joker checked the telemetry twice to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, then asked Pressly if they had a glitch somewhere in the system.

Nothing that big, that _fucking_ big, should be able to move that fast.

It was bad enough being stuck on the ground. But with that monster sliding into orbit, taking flight wasn’t exactly going to help them. The memory of one of those lasers shearing off the side of a skyscraper, the _precision_ that kind of shot would have entailed, still made him shudder.

Even if Shepard succeeded in taking down the second AA tower, they might not make it through the atmosphere. Stealth system or no stealth system, Joker wasn’t keen on their odds of escaping Sovereign’s notice. While the prospect of getting to really put the _Normandy_ through her paces was a little appealing, against something that didn’t seem to give a fuck about the laws of physics, that anticipation was probably a little misplaced.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Let’s see how Shepard planned to handle _that_ one. 

Assuming they even got that far. Joker had listened to the entire exchange between Alenko and Williams with a cold, sickening twist of his gut. Pressly, who had been pacing the cockpit so relentlessly he was surprised there wasn’t wear on the deckplates, had stormed back to the galaxy map, unable to stand there and listen. But Joker heard every word. If he couldn’t help them fight, he was at least going to listen.

Williams had at least two unrepaired suit ruptures. Damaged shield emitters. Low medigel stores. Over the course of the last hour Joker had watched the salarian hardsuit signatures wink out one by one, until only a dozen or so remained.

Rentola, miraculously, was still alive. From his original team of twelve men only two remained on radar. Kirrahe, whose squad had fared well initially, had lost six in the last twenty minutes trying to draw heat off the AA tower. The salarian comm channel contained more exploding shrapnel, whistling slugs and bleeping geth than it did actual combat chatter.

If Shepard didn’t hurry his ass up, there wasn’t going to be anybody left to go _get_.

Twenty kiloton bomb on board, and there was nothing he could do with it.

It was one thing to be stranded in orbit, looking down on his comrades from above. There he actually felt useful. He could monitor, he could anticipate, he could _rescue,_ he could fire giant guns. Even if those things weren’t actually _helpful_ under the circumstances, they at least let him feel like he had the potential to step in if his crew needed him. Stranded here on the ground he was truly useless. If the geth stormed the ship right now, he’d hardly be able to defend himself even with a gun. Hell, he hadn’t touched a firearm since Basic. Most pistols with more kick than a Kessler would break his wrist. He could try beating them with a crutch, he supposed.

“ _Any word?”_

Adams’ normally relaxed, carefree tenor had been replaced by an anxious, biting tension that set Joker’s teeth on edge. He’d checked in at least eight times over the last twenty minutes. The thrusters were up and ready to burn, the entire ship poised for action like the coiled spring of a trap that hadn’t been sprung.

“How badly do you think one AA tower could rip us up?” Joker asked, massaging his forehead. “Because I’m almost willing to risk it at this point.”

_“Just our luck the one that’s still up is the one closest to the bomb site.”_

Joker sighed, smacking the console in frustration, then tuned back in to Shepard’s comm chatter, which sprang to life with a blur of static followed by the sounds of gunfire and shouting. Quickly he checked the combat scanner in their area, identified a handful of geth. It looked manageable, but then again, Joker wasn’t the one getting shot at.

According to his schematics of the base, they were close to the gun. On top of it, maybe. The fact that they weren’t facing more resistance was a testament to Kirrahe’s men – they had done their jobs.

The marker signaling the AA tower flashed red. Joker barely had time to acknowledge it before Pressly paged him from the CIC.

“ _I’m reading it’s down! Joker, what do you see?”_

“Looks good here,” Joker said tightly, before opening the line to Shepard. “Commander. Our scans show the AA gun is offline. Can you confirm?”

“ _It’s down. Get your ass over here. We need to plant that bomb and get the hell out of here!”_

“Agreed,” Joker muttered. He wasn’t sure if Shepard realized that Sovereign was already in orbit or not, but that was a bridge they’d have to cross when they came to it. “Adams! I’m taking us up and heading to the target.”

“ _Ready when you are, Joker_.”

Pressly appeared behind him, hands leaning on his headrest as he peered over his shoulder at the sensor data. “Pakti. Dubyansky. Get your asses down to the cargo bay and be ready to help unload that bomb!”

_“Already here, sir.”_

Joker wasn’t sure which one of them answered. Didn’t care. What mattered was now he could _do_ something. He engaged the maneuvering thrusters and nudged the ship off the ground.

_Hold on, Williams. We’re coming._

~

Kaidan sighed in relief at the sight of the _Normandy_ skimming the roof of the base and angling out for a descent into the open trench of the spillway. It didn’t even look like the streamlined frigate should fit, but somehow Joker managed it.

“Ash,” he called into his comm as the cargo bay door lowered. “You still with us?” He began jogging towards the ship, where Dubyansky and Pakti already had the bomb on the ramp, along with the two salarians Kirrahe had sent to accompany it. Together the four of them carefully navigated it off the ship and set it down in the shallow aqueduct with a splash.

_“Still here_ ,” she called back, her voice ragged and out of breath. “ _They’ve got us pinned down. Korkhra’s dead. Fucking Teuffel’s dead. We’re cut off from Kirrahe. No escape route_.” She hissed sharply through her teeth. “ _Just set the bomb and get out of here._ ”

Kaidan opened his mouth to answer, heart thudding in his throat, but Shepard beat him to it.

“Sit tight, Williams. We’re unloading the bomb. Soon as it’s clear I’m sending the _Normandy_ your way for an evac.”

“ _Don’t recommend that, sir. There’s geth all over the damned place.”_

“I’m not looking for your recommendations,” Shepard shot back as Dubyansky and one salarian brought the bomb’s control panel online with a glitter of light rippling across its glossy surface.

“Shepard,” Alenko said. “I’ll stay here and arm the bomb. Go get her, then meet us back here.”

“Hear that Williams?” Shepard called out. “I’m taking my team and coming at you from the south. We’ll flank and give them something else to shoot at. Just stay alive until I get there, got that?”

_“I’ll do my best, sir.”_

“Joker. Head for the rendezvous point. Get everyone you can, then come get us on the AA tower.”

“ _Roger that, Commander.”_

“Kirrahe!” Shepard barked. “I’m sending my ship to the rendezvous point for an evac.” He turned to Alenko. “Get that thing set. When I’ve got Williams, start the countdown and be ready to hop in the cab when we pass back your way. You two, _”_ he said, pointing to Pakti and Dubyansky. “Back on the ship.”

Dubyansky cleared his throat in protest, knuckles white around the Lancer assault rifle he clutched in his hands, but Shepard had already turned to Garrus, laying out a plan of attack.

Kaidan shook his head. “Believe me, guys, I appreciate the thought. But without a hardsuit, shields, target assist on your weapons…”

“We’re a liability,” Pakti finished.

Kaidan nodded. “Go on. Get to the ship. We’ve got a job to do.”

“We’ll see you when it’s done,” Dubyansky blurted out. Kaidan’s smile didn’t falter until they jogged toward the ramp, water sloshing at their heels. He bent over the bomb’s primary control panel until Shepard’s hand fell on his shoulder. 

“I’m coming back for you.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Kaidan replied. “We’re getting it done.”

Shepard responded with a scant nod, signaled to Garrus and the others, and entered a tunnel that would lead them towards the tower.

Kaidan released a long sigh and turned to the bomb. A salarian skimmed the fingers of one hand across the haptic interface of his omnitool. The other had a pistol out, dark eyes darting nervously back and forth across the now-quiet spillway.

“I’ve programmed the detonator,” the first reported, the treble, almost nasal voice so common to salarians even higher pitched than normal. “Arming sequence is booting now. We’ll be online in about ninety seconds.”

“What’s your name?” Kaidan asked.

The salarian tilted his head to the side in surprise. “Telib.”

He nodded to the salarian with the pistol. “And you?”

“Reliva.”

“Alenko. Pleasure to serve with you.”

The two salarians exchanged glances. “Likewise.”

“So now we wait,” Kaidan said grimly. “And hope nothing goes wrong.”

Telib hissed and pointed to the sky. Reliva raised his pistol. The dark silhouette of a geth dropship appeared overhead on the skyline, closing rapidly on their location.

Kaidan swore.

~

Lonhro’s body lay about a meter away, his empty, sightless eyes somehow more unnerving than the fact that right above those vacant orbs most of his skull was missing. Jagged white splinters of bone peeked up from sagging lips of charred flesh, green blood mixed with greymatter that looked a lot like the protein shake Alenko put through a blender every morning.

They were all dead. Ashley could only find three transponder signals left on the tower, and she had no idea if the chain of command extended to any of them.

Blood trickled down her back. A command issued to her medigel reserves resulted in a wheeze and an error message. The field medic was making snow angels in his own blood.

Vaguely she heard Kirrahe shouting fallback orders over the comm. The _Normandy_ had reached the rendezvous point, and anyone left standing either needed to get on board or get left behind.

Ashley clutched the barrel of her rifle and drew in a few rapid breaths. Her suit analytics tried to alert her to the severity of her structural damage, but she shut off the alarm and blocked the findings in her HUD. If she was dying, fine. The details didn’t exactly matter.

Overhead came the low drone of an approaching ship, and hope sprang to life in her chest.

It wasn’t the _Normandy_.

The insectoid outline of a geth drop ship powered across the sky, headed, at first, she thought, to the AA tower. But it closed too fast. Her influx of relief instantly vanished when she realized where it _was_ going. To the bomb site.

“Drop ship inbound, LT!” she shouted into the comm, then rolled away as the sound of her voice alerted one of the geth to her position. A slug whistled past her ear. One of the hoppers took another jump out of the corner of her eye. Some salarian, still alive somewhere, opened fire, pinning it down long enough for her to reposition.

“ _It’s already here!_ ” Alenko shouted back. “ _There’s geth pouring out all over the bomb site!”_

She closed her eyes. Grit her teeth. _Things fall apart_ , she thought. _The centre cannot hold_.

Shepard’s voice cut over the comm. _“Alenko! Can you hold them off until I can get back to you?”_

_“Doesn’t matter,”_ came the reply. “ _I’ve armed the nuke.”_

Her heart caught in her throat. Bright red numbers sprang up in the corner of her HUD and began to run backwards in firm, unwavering rhythm.

“Kaidan, what the hell are you doing?”

“ _This bomb’s going off! No matter what. Shepard, get Ash and the salarians and get out.”_

“No way, Skipper,” Ashley argued. “They’re more important. We’re as good as dead up here, anyway.”

“ _Ash.”_

She tried to think if Shepard had ever called her that before. She didn’t think he had.

“Hey,” she said, each word calm, quiet and clear. “You know it’s the right choice.”

A tech mine detonated too close to her position. Her comm line disintegrated into a wall of static. She shut her eyes, leaned back against the stone and swallowed a deep breath. _It’s okay,_ she thought to herself. _It’s okay. It’s all okay._

_You’re a Williams. Show ‘em what it really means._

~

Shepard skidded to a halt, cursing Saren, cursing Sovereign, curing the entire planet. The AA tower was so close. The roof access ledge they had found ran right along the edge of the compound. From where they stood, he could see the tower rising above them to the left. Below he could see the aqueduct spillway, where Alenko and the two salarians formed small specks hovering around the bomb.  

“Joker,” he barked into the comm. “Do you have the salarians yet?”

“ _The survivors of Kirrahe’s team are boarding now! What are your orders?”_

Liara gasped. Shepard turned his gaze skyward. The geth dropship, free of its cargo, had taken back to the sky, but a small piece had detached from its hull, zooming towards them at terrific speed. It was small, nothing more than a hovercraft, and carrying a single occupant. Wrex snarled, recognizing the shape even before Shepard did, drawing his assault rifle and laying down a hail of bullets even though the craft was still too far away for them to their mark.

The outline of his geth-made arm stood out like a sore. The sleek arc of the sidebones running back from his jaw lent his predatory features an almost graceful, elegant countenance. Had Shepard never seen the husks, he might have thought the subtle blue lights gleaming through the mechanized slivers of his jaw were merely a side effect of whatever tech he’d jammed in there. But that cold glow extended even to the turian’s eyes. They still glinted with a canny, penetrative intelligence, far removed from the husks’ vacant, hollow stare, but the resemblance made Shepard’s skin crawl.

No wonder he’d been investigating indoctrination. Saren wasn‘t just trying to control, he was trying to survive. And failing. _Saren is not the one using indoctrination_. _Sovereign is_. One swift glance at Liara told him she’s come to the exact same conclusion.

The sharp crack of Garrus’ rifle struck the agile craft’s shields with a blue ripple. Shepard took aim as the craft swooped lower, eyes widening when he saw a well of dark energy forming between Saren’s open hands.

“ _Move!”_ he yelled, turning to run. On the narrow concourse they were completely exposed, nowhere to dodge, no place to take cover.

A writhing heave of biotic energy struck him in the back as they reached a corner, sending his assault rifle flying from his hands, limbs flailing as the sudden crush of momentum sent him reeling perilously close to the concrete barrier girding the roof. Garrus snagged him by the arm before he could go over.

Shepard got his feet back under him and whirled, drawing his pistol and squeezing down on the trigger as Saren leapt nimbly from his craft to land on the roof. The bullets refracted harmlessly off his shields as the turian strode brazenly forward. Wrex tried to brush past him in the narrow space but Shepard shoved him back, urging them into cover around the corner. He flattened his back against the concrete, pistol held to his chest as he listened to the turian’s steps pad closer.

“Shepard, I grow tired of your constant interference,” Saren called out, the flange of his subvocals hinging close to boredom. “Though I admit I am somewhat impressed. My geth were utterly convinced the salarians were the real threat.”

“Give it up, Saren,” Shepard called out. “I know about the rachni. The krogan. Indoctrination. And I know about Sovereign. You can’t win this.”

Saren laughed. “You may think you have all the pieces, Shepard. But you’re still missing the most important ones. I’m going to assume you’ve found the beacon. But it won’t be enough, even with your asari pet.”

Liara stiffened beside him. Shepard slid his glance quickly to her and shook his head. She lowered her chin and scowled.

“You don’t understand what’s at stake here, Shepard,” Saren continued patiently.

Shepard scoffed. “Understand? What is there to understand? You were so desperate for power that you sold your soul to machines, and now they’re using you to commit genocide on a galactic scale. Seems pretty straightforward to me.”

Rays from Virmire’s sinking sun caught the metal grafted into the turian’s jaw as his plates shifted into a sneer. “You keep thinking I’m the enemy. But I’m the only one here trying to save us!”

“Bullshit.”

“You’ve seen the visions from the beacon. You of all people should understand what the reapers are capable of. They cannot be stopped. The protheans tried to fight and were _utterly_ annihilated. The council chose _me_ to protect galactic interests. If we fight, we die.”

“So far I don’t see any less death your way.”

Saren roared. “I am forging a path of survival, Shepard. I’m making the hard decisions _no_ one else will. Bowing before the reapers may not seem noble to you, but try telling that to the trillions of mothers mourning their slaughtered children!”

“You think they’ll let us live?” Shepard challenged. “You’re right about one thing. I have seen the visions. The reapers want nothing but blood. You can’t see that because you’ve let Sovereign indoctrinate you!”

“Absurd,” Saren said after only the briefest of pauses. “I’ve considered all the possibilities. Explored every scenario. I am in control. Sovereign needs _me.”_

“I don’t think so,” Shepard replied. “Look at this place. Isn’t that what it’s all about? You’re trying to learn how it works, so you can protect yourself. But you can’t. Benezia understood that. She knew the only way out was a bullet. Your own followers are less delusional.”

“Impossible. The more control Sovereign exerts, the less capable its followers become. It needs me to find the conduit. My mind is still my own.”

“What is the conduit?” Shepard pressed. In the bottom right corner of his HUD the timer’s incessant countdown continued, the numbers now rapidly approaching a terminus none of them would escape. “We can still stop this. Just tell me what it is!”  

Saren hesitated, but only for a moment. “I’m sorry, Shepard. I’ve considered all the options. You remain in my way.”

Shepard didn’t wait to give Sovereign an opportunity. He lunged around the corner, pistol firing. The air around him sang as Liara unleased a singularity, the power of the biotic field standing the hairs on the back of his neck up straight. But Saren was ready for them. The muzzle of his geth pulse rifle glowed an angry red. _The carnage shot_ , Shepard thought, bracing himself for a thermite explosion he had no chance to avoid on the narrow walkway.

Liara shouted his name. 

The impact slammed into his shields, overloading the emitters. The force knocked him off his feet, sending him sprawling. Steam boiled from his chestplate where molten thermite chewed through the ablative coating. Before he could recover a terrifyingly powerful three-fingered hand grabbed him by the neck and hauled him bodily to his feet, swinging him up and out until he dangled over the ledge. For one moment their eyes locked, the icy blue glow in Saren’s eyes scrutinizing him almost curiously as Shepard kicked his feet and struggled against the turian’s iron-clad grip.

Wrex’s bellow briefly snagged Saren’s attention, and Shepard didn’t waste the opportunity. Drawing back his fist he let a punch fly at Saren’s unprotected face. The hand around his neck loosened and Shepard’s stomach dropped, but before he could fall a lattice of blue energy snagged him, pulling him sharply away from the ledge. When Liara let him go he dropped to his knees.

The krogan threw himself at Saren, who scrambled for his hovercraft. In the distance Shepard heard a warning klaxon start to wail in careful, measured bursts of sound.

_The bomb._

Saren twisted his head to look down below in the direction of the spillway, and without another word his mobile craft leapt skyward. Shepard fired four futile shots as it careened away.

“Shepard!” Garrus shouted. “We’re running out of time. We have to get to the _Normandy!_ ”

He tore his gaze away from the fleeing Spectre, heart thudding inside his chest. A quick check of his chronometer confirmed his fear.   

Not enough time. Not enough time to get them both.

Shepard exhaled. Called Joker’s name over the comm. And began to run.  

~

Three minutes, twenty four seconds.

Kaidan stared at the numbers in the lower corner of his HUD, counting down the last remaining minutes of his life. On Eden Prime that steady atrophy had been the impetus to action, something to stop, prevent. Now he was about to give his life to make sure those numbers reached zero.

Telib and Reliva took up flanking positions around the bomb, offering cover fire as Kaidan laid down grenades in hopes of at least slowing them down if he couldn’t take them out. Their detonations sent electric streaks of light coruscating through the water of the spillway.

Kaidan’s biotic corona flared, an angry, writhing halo of light as he released a salvo of dark energy, amp spiking so high he managed to knock a destroyer to the ground.

It was a brief victory, quickly swallowed by more geth.  

Reliva punctured a fuel tank with a sniper rifle, sending plumes of white-hot fire shooting into the air trailed by a thick ream of angry black smoke. Two troopers mewled in dismay as their metallic hides burned molten red. Behind them a rocket trooper managed to withstand the blast, but Kaidan used its momentary disorientation to lash out with another biotic field and throw it backwards.

Not stopping. Slowing. There would be no stopping them. This was a war of attrition, and time was all Kaidan had left.

Two minutes, thirty nine seconds.

A hopper sprang towards him, limbs uncoiling like threads of silk as it shed droplets of water that caught in the distorted sun gleaming through gathering clouds. An ECM grenade detonated near his feet, sending a shockwave of pain through his amp and dropping his barrier with an explosive snap. He slapped a hand against the back of his neck as the smell of burnt circuits hit his nose. When he tried to recall his barrier with the other hand, nothing happened. With a cry he rolled to the left, painfully aware that his shields were also down, shoulder cutting into the murky water and splashing oily froth into mouth and nose. He choked, gasping for air and groping for the pistol that now lay about a meter away under the gentle rush of water flowing down the spillway. 

A heated current of air whipped past as a geth rocket slammed into the ground, sending water leaping into the sky amidst the deafening explosion that followed.

_Telib,_ Kaidan thought, then glanced to his left. The battered salarian hoisted himself up on his elbows, the chest piece of his hardsuit shattered. A dazed look crossed his amphibious face.

“It killed me,” he said, blinking in surprise, before slumping back down face first into the water. 

One minute, fifty eight seconds.                

Pushing himself forward Kaidan reached for the pistol, fingers swiping futilely against the barrel before he found the grip and swept it up, firing in an arc, slugs colliding with hexagonal defense shields the geth had deployed. Golden dimples appeared in the broad blue face, shimmering like a rock skimming a pond.

Reliva wailed a warning as another geth rocket trooper sent a distortion rocket screaming at his body. With his amp still down all he could do was roll out of the way. The detonation swept him off his feet and hurled him against the casing of the bomb with teeth-rattling force. Pain seared across his abdomen as he dropped to the water, breath driven entirely from his lungs. 

He tasted blood in his mouth, didn’t know where it came from until he saw it swirling in the water around him. _Shrapnel._ Pressing one hand to the jagged tear in his hardsuit he staggered back to his feet, other hand still firing the pistol.

One minute, twenty four seconds.

It seemed so short, so laughably short, but still an eternity of time left to fail. He could not allow the geth to do what he had done on Eden Prime.  

And Ashley wasn’t here to pull his head out of the line of fire this time. 

Blood gushed through his fingers like water through a sieve. His biomonitor screamed a warning about his pulse rate as his sense of balance skewed violently, sending him stumbling to his knees. The pistol went flying once more as his hands shot forward to keep from falling on his face, and this time he wasn’t getting it back. 

Doggedly he tried to regain his feet once more, breath coming in shallow, rapid gasps. At some point during the chaos a destroyer had gotten within range to charge. Feebly he reached for an ECM grenade, lobbing everything he had left.

One minute, three seconds.

_This is it_ , he thought numbly. _I’m not going to make it until the end_.  

But as the yellow-striped monstrosity blotted out everything in his vision he felt one last, fleeting sense of overwhelming pride.

_Good luck decrypting that nuke, you son of a bitch._

The air around him hummed. For a moment he thought his amp had miraculously come back online, but no, the roiling web of dark energy now snaring the destroyer hadn’t come from him.

A krogan’s bellow echoed dimly in his ears, and through his blurring vision he saw a familiar red crest plow into the struggling destroyer, bowling it over into a tumultuous pile of mechanized limbs.

A voice shout his name. The pop of a sniper rifle caught a hopper in midair.

“Kaidan!”

But how—

Shepard grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to his feet. Kaidan staggered, consciousness fading rapidly as the blood dribbled down his suit in scarlet ribbons. Overhead the _Normandy_ glided in low, the power from the thrusters kicking back sheets of water as it landed.                                                

Thirty two seconds.

“No,” he croaked as Shepard hoisted him off the ground onto his shoulder and began to move, calling orders into his radio. “ _No.”_

“Hang on, Kaidan,” Shepard murmured.

A choked cry stuck in the back of his throat as blackness reached up to swallow him, driving away the last vestiges of consciousness even as the numbers in his HUD continued their relentless decay towards zero.

~

Ashley watched as the _Normandy’s_ slender silhouette powered into the sky, engines blazing as she punched through atmosphere. For just a moment her stomach twisted as whatever foolish hope she’d still clung to vanished behind the clouds. Despite their rapidly approaching termination the geth continued to fire, the unceasing whine of their pulse rifles providing the music she was going to die to.

Eighteen seconds. 

Her rifle hung uselessly at her side, the casing around the heat sinks singed black. With one trembling hand she pulled off her helmet and let it drop beside her. Enough countdown. Enough alarms screeching that her body was giving up the ghost before she’d given it permission to do so. Enough of all of it.

Sunlight bathed her face. She inhaled deeply before a thick, wet cough rattled her chest. The air was gritty and stank of burning jet fuel but it was _real_ , not the filtered, circulated air of her suit. Out in the distance she imagined she could see the ocean, feel the cool curtain of rain as it struck the water, washing away the soot.

Nine seconds.

_This is it. This is how it ends. Dad, I hope you’re proud_.

She had no Rosary so she gripped her pistol. Probably not something God would find amusing, but maybe he’d understand.

“Hail Mary,” she murmured. “Full of grace. The Lord is with thee.”

The dim klaxon from down in the spillway took on an urgent keen. She closed her eyes.

“Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour—”

In the HUD of her discarded helmet, the timer hit zero.


	44. Amisso

Three empty chairs stood out like missing teeth in the briefing room. No one looked. No one spoke. The silence roared in Shepard’s ears so loud his head throbbed.

Joker and Liara sat closest to the vacant chairs. Liara’s listless gaze stayed carefully away from the open space. The pilot hid his perpetual scowl under the brim of his hat, hands resting heavily on his knees as he stared at the floor. Even Wrex was quiet, the battlemaster’s heady defiance uncharacteristically restrained. Garrus sat between Liara and Pressly, back hunched, one set of talons rubbing his browplates.

Victory, such as it was, tasted bitter. 

Shepard’s thoughts drifted to the medbay, where Tali’s future remained undecided and Alenko lay under a set of hot surgical lights, Dr. Chakwas deftly working to repair the damage to his renal artery.

_(You know it’s the right choice.)_

She’d needed his help. He hadn’t come.

Soldiers died. It was part of the job. Part of the mission. There was always something more important than a single life. Some greater good. Some promise of a better world that the people who sacrificed for it would have to take on faith.

He’d done this before. He’d do it again.

But for now there were three empty seats, one of which would never be filled again.

The eyes of everyone in the briefing room settled on him. Watching. Waiting. He ran a hand over his head. The salt of Virmire still stuck to his scalp, forming a layer of grit on his skin he wasn’t sure he could scrub off.  

Somewhere in the back of his mind a dark shape rose up and _pushed_ , sending a rill of cold down his spine.

_(running. running. he’s running, can’t stop running from blue eyed monsters hunting in the dark. there’s blood all over him, all over the knife, hold onto the knife don’t let go of the knife)_

 “The Council has ordered us back to the Citadel,” Shepard said finally.

Garrus shifted in his seat, mandibles flaring with distaste. “ _Now_ they want to offer assistance?”

“Councilor Valern wants to debrief Captain Kirrahe and what’s left of his men,” Shepard replied. “They aren’t thrilled that Saren was camping out right under their noses without anyone the wiser. If you ask me they’re more concerned about leaked salarian secrets than they are the reapers, but at least it’s something.”

Joker muttered something under his breath. Shepard did not ask him to repeat it.

“How many salarians made it out?” Garrus asked.

“Six,” Shepard replied, rubbing his eyes.

The turian’s mandibles quivered. “Damn. Out of nearly forty?”

Shepard nodded. “Eight made it on board. Two didn’t survive. Dr. Chakwas treated the others. We’ve made space for them in the cargo bay until we reach the Citadel.”

“And what about us?” Pressly asked. “Is the Council at all interested in the fact that you caught Saren experimenting with mind control on an army of cloned krogan?”

Wrex stirred in his seat but kept quiet. Shepard massaged his forehead briefly. A conversation with Wrex was something that needed to happen, but not something he thought he could deal with yet. “My hope is that by the time we get there, we have a few more answers to give to them. Like where Saren plans to go next.”

“Did you get something from the beacon?” Garrus asked, a trill of hope sounding through his subvocals.

“I’m still…sorting through it,” he said, aware of Liara’s steady gaze but unable to return it.

_(blue curtains red with blood, blue eyes, husks eyes, they’re husks but they shouldn’t be husks)_

“But I’m hoping that it can give us…something.”

Pressly rested his chin against steepled fingers. “Any word on our patients?”

Shepard heaved a sigh. “Tali is holding stable. Alenko should be coming out of surgery soon. She was optimistic. I’ll keep everyone posted.”

“Shepard,” Garrus said. “About Williams—”

“She died a hero,” he said, abruptly cutting him off. “She gave her life to stop Saren. And we’re damn well not going to let that be in vain.”

He stood, discouraging further questions. At least for now. Weariness pummeled him from every angle; his head felt thick and muddy. Virmire was supposed to bring answers, resolution to this insane crusade they were on. Instead it had only brought more doubt.

The others began to file quietly out of the conference room. Liara paused, reached out tentatively and grazed his arm with her fingers.

_(it’s dark, so dark, but they’re out there. everywhere. waiting for him. no light, just sound. horns, so many horns, singing a dirge of death with tongues of red fire._

_can’t see. he’s running, running, until the air hurts in his lungs and his legs burn, carving knife from the kitchen still clutched in his hands. there’s blood. so much blood. all he can think about is the blood—)_

“Shepard.”

_(not right. no horns. there weren’t horns just blood, too much blood, whose blood was it all?)_   

Liara’s hand tightened on his arm. “ _Shepard_.”

He sucked in a breath, as though his entire body had just plunged into freezing water. Liara’s eyes found his, wide with alarm.

“I can’t,” he said, swallowing with effort, tongue thick inside his mouth, the very thought of a meld making him lightheaded and sick. “Not right now. I just…I need a minute.”

She hastily withdrew her hand. “No, Shepard. I was not going to…I am sorry. About Ashley. About…all of this.”

_There were no reapers on Mindoir. Why do I remember reapers on Mindoir?_

“Thank you,” he said finally.

“Please, get some rest,” she pleaded.

Rest. That dark shape was there, _waiting_ for him to close his eyes.

“It’ll be a few hours before we hit the relay,” he told her. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

_Everything will be fine_. He repeated it to himself all the way to the medbay.  

~

Dr. Chakwas already had a chair waiting when Shepard arrived.

“Most comfortable one I’ve got,” she informed him when he settled into it with a grateful thanks. Alenko appeared pale and drawn under the harsh fluorescent light, but very much alive, chest rising and falling at regular intervals.

“How do things look?” Shepard asked.

“He’ll be fine. No complications from the celiotomy. I repaired the laceration to the renal artery and even managed to save the kidney. The anesthesia should wear off in another hour or so. If you’d like I can contact you when he wakes up.”

Shepard shook his head. “Thanks, Doc. I’ll wait here.”

She smiled, her lighthearted tone a sharp contrast to the deep lines pinching the corners of her eyes. Her silver hair, normally so perfectly kept, hung limp and unruly around her cheekbones. Between Tali, Alenko and the two salarians now cooling in the morgue, she’d had a rough day.

“That’s why I brought the comfy chair,” she told him, with a motherly pat on his arm. “Though I need to run a few scans on you, too, you know.”

_(don’t drop the knife whatever you do don’t drop the knife)_

 He glanced up at the perfect arch of her eyebrow, green eyes glittering with concern. “I’m fine.”

“The last time you encountered a prothean beacon you were _not_ fine,” she reminded him. “I seem to recall some rather concerning brainwave patterns, in fact. So you’ll have to forgive my skepticism.”

Shepard’s dry chuckle sounded more like a wheeze. “I stayed awake through this one. No one had to drag me out, at least. Nothing a little rest won’t cure.”

Now she folded her arms neatly across her chest. “Assuming you plan to get some. I’m not above sedating you if I have to.”

That brought a small smile to his face. “Believe me, doc, your wrath is more terrifying than that of all the brass in the Alliance. You have my word.” His gaze drifted over to the makeshift clean room at the far end of the med bay, Tali’s silhouette barely visible behind the swath of curtain. “Any change in Tali?”

“She remains stable. So far the antibiotics are doing their job. Infection is still complicating her recovery, but she’s holding her own. As soon as communications got restored I found a quarian contact on the Citadel. Dr. Rezora vas _Ipsilani_ is going to meet us when we arrive.”

“That sounds like good news.”

“I think we’re due some, don’t you?”

“It would be a nice change.”

A demure smile chased away some of the lines of care from her face. “I’ll be in my office if you need anything, Commander. Just remember, I keep a dermal injector loaded with a sedative in my pocket, and after the incident with Wrex I’m not afraid to use it.”

Shepard threw her a quick salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

When she disappeared into her office, Shepard settled back against the chair, surrounded by the lingering quiet and whir of machines determinedly keeping his two crew members alive. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, sucking in a breath that scraped the back of his throat like shards of glass.

The darkness _pushed_ again, its crimson maw agape. In the back of his mind he heard the echo of monsters, their incessant keen reverberating deep inside his chest.

He buried his head in his hands.  

~

Garrus sat at the mess, picking at the rations bar he’d been toying with instead of eating for the last twenty minutes. Captain Kirrahe stood in front of Grieco behind the galley counter, flanked by two more salarians, all clutching trays. Each wore the same blank, shell shocked expression Garrus saw in the mirror, though the architecture was different on their alien faces. Kirrahe offered him a courteous nod as he sat down at the table, eying the contents of his tray with vacant curiosity.

“They tell me Grieco’s a good cook,” Garrus said. “As far as levos go, anyway.”

Kirrahe blinked his wide, black eyes. “The hospitality is appreciated. Difficult circumstances.”

“I’m sorry,” Garrus said. It was a canned, standard response that seemed to transcend species. But years of using it hadn’t taught him a better one.

Kirrahe inhaled deeply. “Losing this many men is going to be a blow to STG. The task force they sent with the beacon was significantly larger than our usual numbers, precisely because of the incident on Eden Prime. In hindsight that appears to have been a mistake. One we don’t usually make.”

The other two salarians took a seat beside their captain, owlish expressions taking in their surroundings before they poked experimentally at their plates. After a few cautionary bites their appetites took over and they dug in with gusto. Garrus wondered if any of them had seen a decent meal since getting marooned on Virmire.

“I think we’ve all made mistakes when it comes to Saren.”

Kirrahe bobbed his head. “Hopefully the Council will listen now. If it isn’t too late.”

“Shepard will defeat Saren,” Garrus insisted. “We’ve come this far.”

Kirrahe scrutinized him carefully, much in the same way Shepard often did. “You have a great deal of faith in your commander. Enough to serve with him on a human ship. I don’t believe I’ve seen that happen before, so many aliens together for a common purpose.”

“Funny what the threat of imminent annihilation does for cooperation,” Garrus mused.

“I thought your krogan was going to require…containment. I did not expect him to fall in line.”

Garrus’ mandibles flared. “I don’t think he’s anyone’s krogan but his own. But Shepard is awfully…persuasive.”

Kirrahe nodded thoughtfully. “He surrounds himself with good people. The human woman – Williams. She fought well. I am sorry she did not make it back.”

There it was again. That futile, obligatory _I’m sorry._ A sharp pang of regret vibrated through his plates. Garrus didn’t want to admit that his presence in the mess had little to do with his appetite and everything to do with its proximity to the medbay. He hadn’t known Williams terribly well, but Alenko had. Waking up was not going to be pleasant. 

And there was still no update on Tali other than the same, unhelpful _no change_.

He heaved a sigh, dragging his gaze from the stern outer walls of the medbay back to his slowly crumbling rations bar. “There haven’t been many times that I’ve missed C-Sec. But this is definitely one of those times.”

“If we are headed to the Citadel, perhaps you’ll have the chance to change your mind.”

Garrus’s mandibles pulled tight to his jaw, his tired, aching body stiffening with indignation. “Not a chance.”

The corner of Kirrahe’s mouth twitched, as though pleased by his response. “Then Officer Vakarian, I wish you and your team luck with the task that lies ahead of you.”

~

Kaidan awoke to the sterile smell of disinfectant. Groggy consciousness returned only grudgingly, his entire body resentful of the sudden push towards wakefulness. The afterimage of those three numbers in his HUD, frozen at 0.00, faded from his retinas as the dull, grey walls of the medbay swam slowly into focus around him. Thready fluorescent light threw shady halos on the medical equipment in his periphery, and his skin prickled as a gust of cool air from the circulators overhead wafted across him. To his left he heard the steady exhalation of some kind of respirator.

No. Not Ashley. Ashley was dead.  

He drew in a gulp of air. Everything hurt. His head throbbed. His ribs ached. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth like a swab of cotton. He opened and closed his mouth, running his tongue over cracked lips, searching for moisture and finding none. A small moan escaped him.  

“Hey,” a voice said, so soft and subdued it took a moment to identify. Shepard sat in a chair beside him, shoulders slumped. When Kaidan tried to move a sharp bolt of pain in his abdomen sent a hiss of air through his teeth.

“Take it easy. Doc said you’d be pretty sore. Quite a hole she had to stitch up.”

Kaidan laid back against the thin pillow and stared at the ceiling.

“Can I get you something?”

“Water,” Kaidan managed.

Shepard disappeared, reappearing a few minutes later with a cup and a straw. Kaidan sat up just enough that he could sip it without choking, trying not to gulp as the chilled liquid passed his lips.

“Better?”

Kaidan nodded.

Shepard set the cup down on a metal table within reach of Kaidan’s hand and tugged his chair a little closer. When he sat back down he leaned forward and stared at his hands, the line of his shoulders bowing in the center.

“Ash is dead,” Kaidan said. Hearing it aloud only sharpened the pain.

“Yes.”

“Why? Why me, and not her.”

 A long silence followed. Kaidan refused to look at him. Couldn’t.

“I had to choose,” Shepard said finally. “I chose you.”

“ _Why_.” His voice hitched, the word sticking in his throat. He both wanted the answer and didn’t. 

More silence. Then, “Does it matter?”

“She’s dead,” Kaidan retorted. “It matters. It should have been me. I set the bomb so you wouldn’t have to—”

“It wasn’t your call,” Shepard interrupted. His voice remained soft, but now threaded with something leaden and inarguable. The voice of a commanding officer, not a friend. Kaidan rarely needed to hear it, had never taken advantage of their friendship. But he couldn’t shake the feeling maybe that had influenced Shepard’s decision, that faced with saving a friend or saving a fellow officer, he had chosen the former. And he wasn’t sure if he could handle that.

“She was my friend too,” Shepard said. The rebuke left his voice as quickly as it had come, leaving him sounding drained. Defeated.

Kaidan closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Kaidan.”

Kaidan opened his eyes and shook his head. “I let her down. If you hadn’t had to come back for me—” 

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Shepard interrupted. “That’s not a road you want to go down. Trust me.  There’s always something you could have done differently. Better. Play it out in your head a thousand times and you’ll get a thousand different outcomes, nearly all of them better than what happened. But that’s not the way it works. You made the best call you knew how to make with what was in front of you. And in the end it was out of your hands. Her death is on me, Kaidan. I made the choice.”

Kaidan opened his mouth. Closed it again. “Shepard—”

“Don’t,” Shepard said, getting abruptly to his feet. “I intend to take it out on Saren.” Only when he reached his full height did Kaidan realize just how tired he looked, how beaten. Red lines shot through his scleras and a dull sheen covered his eyes. Kaidan’s sense of time was still disoriented; he didn’t know how long he’d been out or even if they were still within range of Virmire. But if Shepard had slept it didn’t show.

“Thank you,” he called out, his voice like sandpaper scraping across his throat. “For coming back for me.”

Shepard offered a half smile that came nowhere near his eyes. “Get some rest. I believe Dr. Chakwas is asleep at her desk. But if you need her, call. I need you out there. There’s still more to do.”

~

Liara had nearly knocked on Shepard’s door at least three times since she’d seen him leave the medbay. But in the end she simply hovered near the mess, pretending to be busy, and waiting.

_Let him sleep_.

But he _wouldn’t_ sleep, she knew it as sure as she was breathing. One quick glance at his face as he crossed the short steps from the medbay to his quarters told her that.

She’d seen what the beacon had done to him, watched it with her own eyes. The terrifying arch of his spine as alien energy sliced through his body, the gnash of his teeth, splayed fingers locked and rigid with pain. Whatever the beacon had poured into his mind, she couldn’t leave him with it. Not alone. Not when she could help.     

Just as she’d screwed up her courage to approach his door, however, Shepard emerged.

At first glance, nothing seemed amiss. He nodded to Felawa, who passed by on his way to the CIC. Shepard’s eyes were bright, his stride fluid and sure, hands jammed into his pockets. But he blinked a little too hard in the light of the mess, looking around him almost as though puzzled to how he had gotten there. Upon deeper inspection the brightness to his eyes was more akin to a fever than alertness, and when he stopped at the coffee pot, his hands shook when he pulled them free of his pockets.

“Shepard,” she said softly.

The mug in his hands dropped to the ground, bouncing hard off the deckplates and skidding wildly until it came to rest somewhere under the table. Shepard’s other hand gripped the counter, face draining to a sickly white. His chest rose and fell with alarming swiftness; she could see him forcing his breaths through his nose rather than his mouth to stem the sudden flow of panic.

“Sorry,” he said, then turned to look for the cup.

She reached out a hand, hesitated, then placed it on his upper arm before he could get down on his knees to reach under the table. “Please let me help,” she said, low enough not to be overheard.

For just a moment he stood still, as though any movement at all would fracture his carefully constructed façade and collapse it into rubble.

“It’s fi—”

“No.” She resisted the urge to brush her fingers across his face. “It’s not. I can help, Shepard. _Please_.”

He straightened, the subtle shifting of his skeleton like watching stripped gears grind together. “Come with me,” he said at last.

She did not want to let go of his arm, afraid he might elude her somehow, but when he pulled away she did not dare try to reconnect.

The distance to his quarters was short but he covered it swiftly, even through his obvious distress able to reorder the space around him like a ship sailing through a relay. People did not remain in Shepard’s path; if they did not move he knocked them out of orbit, whether intending to or not.

When the door slid shut behind them it took her eyes a moment to adjust. The only illumination came from a lamp on his desk, which cast a pale glow across Shepard’s face as he came to a stop in front of it and splayed his hands flat on the desk’s smooth surface. As though suddenly remembering the lack of light, he reached out with one finger and touched a panel to his left. The overhead lights snapped on, chasing the shadows into corners.

“I thought maybe I could think better in the dark,” he said, still stooped over his desk.

She opened her mouth to reply but he cut her off.

“I can’t put you through this, Liara.” He straightened, turning to face her. His eyes burned a hole right through her, but she did not flinch.

“Tell me what’s happening.”

He laced his fingers and slid his hands across the top of his skull, expression faltering. Here, alone in his quarters, the effort of maintaining his steady countenance wore thin. “I see them. Everywhere. On Mindoir. Torfan. Places they aren’t supposed to be. It’s like they’re rewriting my memories. I can’t…escape.”

“Who?”

“The reapers.”

She digested this for a moment.   “I…see.”

“I can’t _separate_ what’s mine from whatever was in that damned beacon.” He lowered his hands, a short bark of a laugh that was anything but funny sounding from his throat. “I’m supposed to go before the Council in a matter of hours and I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

She closed the distance between them without thinking, finding his hand and clasping it between hers. “Let me help you.”

The blue of his eyes raged bright as a star. Inches apart she could almost feel their heat.

“It’s…unpleasant.”

She tightened her grip on his hand. “I don’t care.”

His fingers threaded hers. Squeezed tight in affirmation.

“Embrace eternity,” she whispered.

Too late she realized it wasn’t the reapers he was afraid of.

 

  

 

 


	45. Somnambulist

_Humming._

_It’s the first thing she hears. The voice of a human woman, melodic and sweet, as she stands over a kitchen sink peeling russet skin off of a white tuber. Her hair is red, light of a setting sun slanting through the window lending it hues of fiery gold. A bowl rich with the scent of butter and herbs sits to her left. The room is heavy with the smell of roasting meat._

_She recognizes this room, the blue curtains framing the window over the sink, because Shepard knows it intimately, and what he knows she knows. This is home._

_Shepard, she whispers. Where are you?_

_But then she sees him. Or what will be him. A boy with shaggy dark hair carefully slices a roast, each cut releasing more of the rich aroma into the kitchen. There is no scar on his forehead. No lines of care on his face. But she recognizes the eyes, bold and blue and daring, already wise beyond his young years._

_He sneaks occasional glances at the woman. His mother. Liara remembers her in a warm flood of memories. Hears her laughter like the peal of tiny bells. Sees her kneeling in the garden, fingers black with soil and mulch, sweat slicking the back of her neck. Feels her stooped over her son’s hunched, frustrated shoulders as he struggles with a school assignment, pointing to his mistake. She is patient. Vigilant. There is so much love._

_She finds a memory of this woman floating in the ether and snatches it. Sees the boy creeping back into the house through a window someone has accidently left open, giddy and happy and more in love than anyone has ever been in love before. His curfew was hours ago and his father will kill him, but somehow it is his mother waiting for him in the living room. She simply points to his bedroom without a word, corner of her lips hovering near a smile. He realizes after he’s tucked under the sheets, the memory of a girl, the most beautiful girl in the world, still fresh on his skin, that the open window was no accident._

_It is a sharp, stunning contrast to Benezia’s firm, guiding hand, but Liara feels the same, fierce pride they share in their offspring._

_Shepard is unabashed in his adoration, though he senses something sad about her. Something he does not understand. So when she hums, he listens. Hopes._

_Do you hear her? he says, mouth turned in a lopsided grin, one free of care and full of promise. She’s humming. She never hums anymore._

_Shepard, she urges. What about the beacon?_

_The boy frowns. Beacon? What beacon? He points to a basket full of tubers, grin returning, wider this time. The potatoes finally ripened. Everything’s going to be ok now._

_Shepard, she pleads. You have to show me—_

_The front door swishes open. Feet in the hallway. His mother wants carpet there, has been asking for it for a year, but his father doesn’t think it’s practical._

_He’s home, the woman says with a smile as bright as her son’s. Her eyes are blue, so blue, and while the resemblance between mother and son is scant, their eyes mirror each other in flawless reflection. She picks up the bowl to carry it to the table, steam still rising from the center, but never gets there._

_The man in the doorway is so like Shepard that Liara’s breath stills in her throat. His hair is longer, greyer, the lines on his face etched deeper, and his eyes are green. But there is no question the boy is his son. She can see it the way he carries himself, the cant of his shoulders, the cut of his jaw._

_He is not alone._

_Liara gasps as the woman lets go of the bowl, its contents spattering the ground with white buttery gobs._

_Husks. Sightless eyes wide and gaping, heads lolling, fingers reaching, grappling, seeking, gouging. Sickly blue light shines through the cabling of their ribs, and they reek of death._

_This isn’t right, Liara thinks wildly. This can’t be right._

_Fear paints the face of Shepard’s father, and he manages only_ I’m sorry _, before the husks plunge their greedy hands into his belly and rip out his bowels._

_Shepard screams. The woman places her body between the monsters and her son, shrieking as the husks converge upon her like a tide swallowing the shore._

_Run! Run! Run!_

_Cold fingers plunge into her eyes, popping them like overripe fruit. There is blood everywhere, so much blood. The white smears on the floor turn crimson, rivulets of red braiding across the tiles. Shepard can only stand and watch, carving knife clutched in his hand, feet frozen in place._

_One of the husks draws back its arm, hand sheathed inside a glowing blue gauntlet. The sound, he remembers the sound it makes, twin omni sawblades running parallel down the fingers spin up with a definitive whir that wakes him up screaming for months._

_(These aren’t husks, they’re batarians, Shepard, they were batarians)_

_The gauntlet pounds into his chest, blades chugging through his flesh until they hit bone, the force of it flinging him off his feet. His back strikes the wall, breath driven from his throat, chest torn and bleeding with shredded skin and cotton threads hanging in rags._

_Liara cries out, clutching her body as pain roars through it with such force her vision darkens. She wants to curl herself up, ward it off, hide from it in the dark. But not Shepard._

_As though the pain wakes him from a trance the arm with the knife swings up, sliding through the synthetic tissue of the creature’s chest up to the hilt, sharp silver point protruding from the ridge of its spine. Fear, panic, hatred wells out of his mouth in a wordless torrent of sound._

_More husks come._

_The boy vaults for the window over the sink, laying his forearm against it with enough force to shatter it into a snowstorm of splintered glass. His fractured ribs scream, bone grinds bone as he wills himself over the sill and into the night._

_When his feet hit the ground he stumbles and falls, rolling shoulder-first across cracked, drought stricken earth. Liara feels the knife bite into his left thigh, but he is too frantic to notice, clamoring to his feet with the knife still clutched in a hand now slick and sticky with blood._

_Behind him, his mother moans._

_The sound hits him in the gut, sapping all heat from his limbs. Sounds of anguish escape from his throat, and for one moment he hesitates._

_The bark of a husk (varren, no, it was a varren, Shepard it was a varren!) greets him from the shattered remains of the window. He can smell the stink of its breath, hear it scrabbling at the sill, trembling in its feral desire to run him down._

_Fear closes over his nostrils like brackish water. His mother calls out to him, feeble, small and scared, but he does not hear it because he_ runs. _Hard and fast, until his breath burns in his throat and his legs turn numb. He feels nothing. Not the pain, the vise tightening around his chest. There is just the roar of adrenaline in his ears as it feeds his limbs and propels him on, anywhere, anywhere, so long as it’s away from here._

_Outside the setting sun casts off its final ribbons of gold, abandoning them to the night. But in the dark he doesn’t know where he is. Doesn’t know where to go. He can hear monsters in the dark, calling, seeking in relentless, unfeeling pursuit. They will hunt. They will kill. They will not stop. They can’t be stopped. Goddess, they_ can’t be stopped.

_The air shatters with the blaring of horns._

_She sees the shape settling down on the horizon, so big it blots out the stars. A red beam scythes from its maw, an obliterating lance of fire wiping away everything he knows. Behind it lurk the silhouettes of more. Dozens more. Hundreds. They rain down like a plague._

_Shepard, this is wrong, she cries out._

_The boy trips. Sprawls, head cracking painfully against the ground. The fabric of his clothing rips over his knees, bits of gravel shredding the skin of his palms. He claws back to his feet, fumbling for the knife, he needs something, has to have something to fight off the monsters. Blood drips in his eyes from a cut the shape of a crescent along his hairline._

_Despite the heat and pain in his chest, the stinging in his hands and knees, he starts running again._

_Liara finally sees what he is running to. A shape in the night, dark on dark, a familiar beacon he finally recognizes. A grain silo. Quiet, secluded. Safe. It has to be safe. He can’t go much farther._

_Shepard, the beacon, she pleads. You have to show me the beacon._

_He pays her no heed._

_When he reaches his refuge she is overcome with the musty sweet smell of dust and seed. The air is still, dry and heavy, but in here the horns mute into faint, muffled sounds, like something out of a dream._

_It is a dream, Shepard listen to me!_

_Blood drips through his fingers as he tries to staunch the blood oozing from his chest. The other hand still clutches the knife. His eyes are wide, wild, unseeing, fueled with panic and fear. His breath rattles in his throat, coming in wheezes. He cannot breathe, he cannot breathe…_

_Shepard!_

_He cries out. They’re coming for me!_

_Footsteps._

_There’s someone in the doorway._

_The silo vanishes._

_A blaze of daylight makes it hard to see, but as her eyes adjust she discovers she is in a market full of people. The air is clear and sharp, soft breeze blowing cool against her skin. Overhead the sun is so bright she has to squint. She can smell bread baking in a café, the scent of herbs floating on the air. The sounds of living surround her. Voices. Laughter. The clinking of glasses. The hum of skycars zipping through the streets. People going about their lives in blissful ignorance._

_She calls out for Shepard._

_She finds him sitting in a café. Older now, but still young, though not young enough considering only six years have passed. A small crescent-shaped scar mars his forehead, standing out like a brand against his closely shaven head. So much blood hung matted in those locks that night that ended in a silo that he shaved them right off, and never grew them back. There are more scars under his shirt that she cannot see, but she feels them, a dull sting that never really goes away. Though the wound is healed the memory has yet to lose its bite._

_A woman sits across from him, her bright civilian clothing a sharp contrast to his crisp military fatigues. They laugh over a drink, and in spite of herself Liara is jealous. She remembers this woman, chance meeting in a bar that ended in her hotel room, heat and sweat, skin on skin. Liara breathes deep, still able to smell perfume like flowers, taste the rum on her tongue, feel the silky strands of her hair running through Shepard’s fingers. Her body arcs under his as his hands drink her in, exploring her flesh with unsated hunger. The grief and anger he carries around with him like an anchor dissolve in a culmination of pure pleasure so powerful Liara gasps. Somehow he hears the small sound, even over the din of the crowd, looks her way._

_The bright sun suddenly dims. In the distance she hears sirens. Overhead hundreds of oblong shapes, thousands, break through the clouds, appendages wavering as they bring death on tongues of red fire._

_Reapers._

_People begin to scream. To run. They push, scrabble, trample, the tenor of living now turning to one of surviving. Shepard gets to his feet._

_Wait, Liara cries, pushing her way through the sea of panic._ Wait!

_She can feel his fear, feel his hate, coiling and uncoiling inside him like an iron fist. The scars on his chest catch fire, a familiar tightness wrapping itself around him and clamping down. He came here to forget, to lose himself, push back the demons that have dogged his steps ever since leaving that grain silo. Now the sky opens up to rain down hell, the very hell he’s trying to outrun._

Reapers _,_ _Liara thinks in a panic._ It shouldn’t be reapers. 

_But it is, their monstrous carapaces reaching, seeking, clawing, and instead of the fight she knows is in him he is overwhelmed by despair._

_I can’t save them, he says._

_You did, Liara tells him, because she can see it all, so clear, the memory under the memory, the template the beacon has seized and is trying to rewrite._

_How he grabbed the woman by the hand, stemming her panic by telling her to clear civilians off the street. Saw the dog tags of an off duty solider standing in the doorway of a bar and grabbed him by the shirt,_ Find me whoever you can and help set up a perimeter, we don’t have much time, _the words so calm and steady despite the race of his heart and the shudder in his spine. One soldier turned quickly to six, each calling upon civilians to help them set up a blockade that shouldn’t have held, but did._

_A banker. A barista. A woman shopping with her daughter._

_They had all worn shock and fear on their faces but did the job Shepard gave them to do, their determination to survive slowly turning the tide of Shepard’s own fear into something sharp and deadly._

_An omnitool salesman helped him cut through the communications disruption to contact Alliance ships in orbit. Liara remembers the outrage of the captain who answered as Shepard told him to shut up and listen when he tried to interrupt._

_How the captain had obeyed._

_He was not going to lose that day. Not again. Not ever again. The batarians had destroyed him once. But that day under the Elysium sun he rose again with wings of steel._

_She tries to touch that memory, pull it forward, but it slips right through her fingers like drifting smoke._

_You are the hero of Elysium. Remember? These people, they_ lived _because of you. This isn’t real. This is the beacon. Show me the beacon. I can stop this!_

_His face pales as the dark shapes draw closer._

_They’re everywhere, he whispers. Not again._

_He looks at her again, sees her this time. His face is wrenched with sorrow, regret. She reaches for him, but he pulls away._

_I’m not who you think I am, he says._

_What do you mean?_

_I can’t stop what happens next. Don’t follow. Please don’t follow me there._

_But she has no choice._

_The market vanishes._

_Under her feet the ground feels like soft powder. Overhead there is no sky, just the black void of space._

_Shepard is here. She feels him. Follows the perfectly shaped footprints marring Torfan’s loamy ground until she reaches a network of underground tunnels. A bunker has been carved in the rock, door wrenched open. Bent and twisted wires give off skitters of sparks that dart into the vacant maw behind it and fade into nothing._

_She doesn’t want to go in._

_There’s death in those tunnels, death, pain, and something so dark and vengeful she trembles with fear._

_Not the batarians. Not the reapers._

_It’s Shepard._

_His rage is soundless. Endless. A well so deep it has no bottom. If she stands on the precipice it will drag her down and hold her until she drowns._

_It isn’t enough for him to kill his enemy. He wants to reach for their hearts and squeeze, feel their agony like it’s a part of him, and when they search for mercy he will show them cruelty and relish in their pain. Everything in them that stood tall on Elysium now lies crushed under the boot of a decade of grief, torment and enmity that has grown so hot it burns like a sun gone nova._

_But beneath all the hate there is something more. Something that sends a shudder through her body._

_Pleasure._

_Not the freedom he found in the woman on Mindoir. Not the delight at the sound of his mother’s soft hum._

_The pleasure that comes from plunging his blade deep into his enemy’s_

_(husks? batarians?)_

_bowels and twisting. Slicing through a pulmonary artery and watching it choke on its own blood. Slipping the tech for a gauntlet stolen off a corpse onto his hand before stripping a_

_(batarian? husk?)_

_of its helmet and slamming his fist home in its face, feeling bone splinter under whirring blades as blood spatters his faceplate._

_Joy drawn from their pain warms Liara’s belly. She sucks blood off her teeth and tastes copper in the back of her mouth. A demented laugh bubbles up from deep in her throat, the sheer exhilaration of it all making her dizzy. In here, in this claustrophobic hell, there are no clean kills. No merciful deaths. In here there is revenge, in its most primal form, and she_ craves _more._

_This is what it felt like, Liara thinks, giddy with adrenaline. This is what they felt like when they killed my mother._

_It’s this thought that frees her. Briefly the memory of Benezia’s last breath escaping with a raspy shudder wipes Torfan away, overlaying it with the cold, gray walls of Peak 15._

_Shepard! she screams. Shepard, stop!_

_Silence greets her. Her skin crawls. She can smell the blood, smell the death. The revulsion of it turns her stomach, but he’s in there, alone, in such raw pain it hurts to breathe._

_She stands at the entrance to the tunnels._

_Walks inside._

_Bodies litter the closed, narrow spaces. Humans. Husks. But unlike the other memories, there are batarians also. His hatred for them is so great even the protheans cannot wholly stamp them out and replace them with their own executioners._

_Shepard, she calls again, pleading this time. His wrath is fading now, waning under the weight of his own dead and a conscience struggling not to suffocate. By the time she finds him, all that is left is despair._

_He kneels on an island in a sea of death. Liara’s eyes drift over the bodies, too many wearing the Alliance sigil. Sacrificial lambs, thrown at the enemy to overwhelm them, trap them in their holes so Shepard can snuff them out. She knows all their names._

_Hardwick, gunnery chief and mother of three. Eliwa, corporal, first active duty assignment. Castellano, private, married less than two months. The list goes on. So long, too long. Shepard has filled the galaxy with mourning mothers who will take their grief to their graves._

_She kneels beside him. His hands drip red with their blood, the scars tattooed across his chest burn white hot._

_I did this, he whispers._

_You won, she replies._

_By sacrificing them._

_Yes._

_He looks at her, raw, naked grief seared across his eyes. Why? For the mission? Or for vengeance?_

_I…don’t know._

_He laughs. She can taste the bitterness in it._

_His fingers find Hardwick’s dog tags, trace the dimpled metal. The skin of her face is crisp and black, still smelling of burnt hair._

_The worst part, he says with a weary voice that has done too much, seen too much. The worst part is that in the end, none of it will matter._

_It always matters, she insists._

_He points to the body of a husk._

_They will come, he says. We’ll fight. But we’ll die. Fall back. Fight. Die. Fall back. Until there’s no one left. And none of it will mean anything. It’s all in vain, Liara. The reapers will win._

_He turns his salient eyes, blindingly blue even in the dark, to meet her. They are mired in defeat, denuded of hope._

_They feel nothing, he says. Fear nothing. There’s nothing we can do._

_Yes there is, Liara tells him, sliding her hands along the either side of his jaw, fingers gently curving around the back of his neck. She pulls him forward until their foreheads touch._

_We are not the protheans, she says. Their war is over. Ours hasn’t been fought. She closes her eyes, wills them back to the marketplace where the sun is bright and life surrounds them. This, she tells him, voice pleading. We can still save this. The beacon, Shepard. It’s just a warning._

_When he exhales, she feels his breath ghost over her skin._

_They fought so hard. Everyone died. Everyone_ died _, Liara. What chance do we have?_

_Every chance. We_ can stop this. _But not without you._

_His teeth grind. So many fragments of himself war against each other, drowning him in their cacophony even as he tries to piece them back together._

_I’m lost in here, he says, and she hears the boy still trapped in the silo. I can’t find my way home._

_I’ll show you, she whispers, and folds him into her arms._

_The market place shatters into splinters of light. A roar of sound engulfs them, and the last, desperate message of the protheans unfolds in a kaleidoscope of ancient imagery, awoken from fifty thousand years of deep slumber._

_Liara—_

_I’ve got you._

_And she does not let go._


	46. Subductis

Shepard gasped as his quarters swam back into focus, lungs clawing for air as though he were on the verge of drowning. Everything felt sluggish, slow to respond, his arms stiff and awkward as if his joints were choked with grit. His hands shook like coming down off of a stim high. Liara’s fingers, cool and steady on either side of his head, let go as soon as he opened his eyes.

“Shepard,” she breathed.

A wave of dizziness shook him, and he reached out to steady himself. She gripped him by his arm until the world stilled.

“Are you all right?”

Briefly he closed his eyes.  Smelled the sweet, musty scent of the grain silo. But when he listened for the reaper horns, all he heard was silence. A small, grateful sigh passed his lips.

“Yes,” he managed.

Her shoulders sagged with relief. Despite the fact his equilibrium had returned she did not let go of his arm. In the ensuing quiet he listened to her breathe. Deep and slow, even and cadenced, a stabilizing rhythm against the staccato, erratic heaves of his own chest.

_Breathe. Just breathe._

In. Out.

Beat by beat, measure by measure, the aberrant jag of his own heart began to level, falling into line with Liara’s until his chest rose and fell in time with hers.

Mindoir. Elysium. Bad enough on their own, but when rewritten to accommodate the reapers they became a special kind of nightmare he didn’t exactly care to revisit. He’d relived that sprint from home to the silo in his memory hundreds, _thousands_ of times. The sharp sting of loose rocks grinding into his palms when he fell on the gravel drive leading to the fields. The groan of vegetation as he trampled through the potato crop – the potatoes, the source of so much effort and agony, now bent and broken beneath his feet, their weedy stalks snaring his ankles and threatening to yank him under. He’d run until his wheezing got so loud and his vision so blurred he had to stop to retch, which only let the varren get closer.

The varren. Their foul stench like rotting meat carrying on the weak summer breeze, a rare stir of air after weeks of sweltering heat. His hair clinging to his scalp in damp patches, shirt sticking to his chest. At first he’d blamed it on sweat, learned later it was blood. The batarian sawblades had ground synthetic fabric so deep into the meat of his flesh the surgeon had picked fibers out of gouges in the bone.  

All of it remained perfectly preserved in his memory, images carved from stone. He’d learned to live with it.

But the horns. The _husks_.

Their fingers in her eyes…

That was going to take a little work to forget.

Even so, it was something out of his control. He’d been a child on Mindoir, a so-called hero on Elysium. Those events, while traumatic, were simple. Batarians came. Batarians killed. Shepard survived. Whatever guilt came with it was, as Anderson had put it, just part of being human. 

But Torfan…those memories hadn’t been just another prothean manifestation, a cruel twist of memory. Of all the hells he’d just dragged Liara through, they treaded closest to the truth.

Adding the reapers changed nothing. Because in those memories, they weren’t the monsters.

 ( _I did this)_

_(You won)_

He couldn’t look at her. Instead his gaze trawled his quarters, taking in the blank walls he refused to fill, the drawer in his desk where his Star of Terra remained shut up inside a box.

Whatever he’d become down in Torfan’s bowels had stayed locked in some dark pit of his heart for years, the most damning skeleton he had lurking in a closet full of them. And he’d just shown Liara them all.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Sorry you had to see that. It’s not…” he licked his dry lips. “It’s not anything I’ve ever—”

“I know.” She curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. “Shepard, I know.”        

She did.

And that was worse than the memory itself.

When he finally met her gaze he braced himself for revulsion. Doubt. There was blood on his hands, and it didn’t matter what was good, what was right, what was necessary. Blood was blood, and he owned it no matter what it cost him.

But sometimes that cost was high, and the people you cared for most got caught in the crossfire.

He thought of Anderson, all of their strained conversations in the wake of Torfan’s fallout. The barista from Elysium who had stopped writing him once the news broke. The look on Major Kyle’s face when Shepard put that pistol to his temple. The footage of Hardwick’s husband breaking down at the podium during a medal ceremony, grieving for his dead wife as every camera in the room swerved to find Shepard’s chair. He still remembered the reporter who’d captioned one of those photos – Shepard seated silently, eyes feverish from the unwise combination of stims and alcohol, line of his jaw hollow and sharp like a hawk, skin even more sallow under the too-bright flashes than it looked in his quarters – and christened him The Butcher of Torfan.

He’d taken it then and he’d take it now. What he expected to see in Liara’s face was nothing he hadn’t seen before. A necessary sacrifice. The mission came first.

But that’s not what he saw.

Understanding. Acceptance. _Warmth_.  And something underneath it all even less familiar, something he’d only dared to hope for.

Shepard brought one hand up. Hesitated.   _All I have to show you are monsters._

Liara’s own hand closed overtop of his, guiding it to her cheek, eyes never leaving his face.

He exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, and with it a wave of exhaustion crashed down on top of him he no longer had the energy to fight off.

“You need to rest,” she said softly. “We still have time before we arrive at the Citadel.”

“Yeah,” he said. _But I don’t want you to go_.

Yet when she turned to leave, he didn’t stop her.

As she reached the door his body stiffened, thoughts of Saren surging back into the forefront of his mind like the opening of a dam.

“Liara.”

When she looked back at him he refused to speculate on whether the hope he saw in her eyes meant what he wanted it to. 

“Did you see what he’s after? Where he’s going?”

A small smile crept over her face. “Yes.”

~

The Citadel gleamed like a ghost through Widow’s particulate haze, the lazy churn of gases and light forming a murky sea that parted around the _Normandy’s_ hide as she sailed her way through. Kaidan watched, subdued, the buzz of excitement surrounding their first visit a distant memory he didn’t want to unearth. His chronometer said it had been weeks since he’d stood here, Ashley leaning over Joker’s seat, chiding his sullen acknowledgement of the _Destiny Ascension._ It felt like a lifetime.  

And an empty one at that. They’d come back with nothing to show for what they’d been through. Saren was still out there. The reapers were still a threat.

Ashley was dead.

He shifted his weight with a grimace, the newly mended muscles and sinews of his abdomen still uncomfortably tight. Joker turned in his seat, as though he’d sensed the rearrangement of space Kaidan’s small movement had created.

“Didn’t think you’d be here,” the pilot gruffed.

“Dr. Chakwas does good work.”

Joker scowled. “Not what I meant.”

“I know.”

Kaidan hesitated, then slid into the empty seat to Joker’s right, hissing through his teeth as he adjusted himself to a comfortable position. Joker wouldn’t need his assistance for docking, but pretending he did would help distract him from the glaring absence in the cockpit. On the whole ship.

Joker watched him call up his haptic interface, expression unreadable under the low brim of his cap. “Should you be up and about already?”

“I’m fine,” Kaidan said, more bite in his tone than he intended. “She’s got plenty else to worry about.” Like the salarian bodies in the morgue. And the death certificate for a crew member with no body to bury.

They’d _left_ her there, to die alone.

“Sure,” the pilot replied. Kaidan searched his voice for something, some indication of what might be going through his mind. Grief. Blame. Relief. Somehow he needed to know. But he found nothing.

_“SSV Normandy, this is Alliance Control. You have been cleared for docking.”_

“Roger, Control,” Joker said. “Beginning our approach.”

Kaidan watched as the Ward arms of the Citadel swallowed them, each metallic wing joined together at the silver halo of the Presidium ring at the station’s heart.

“Feels like we’re right back where we started,” he said.

“Shepard knows where Saren’s going,” Joker replied, not looking up from his console.

Kaidan turned sharply, the newly repaired hole in his body wailing in protest. “What?”

“I think you were napping at the time.”

That time the bitterness came through loud and clear. Kaidan settled back in his seat and turned his gaze back out the shutters as Joker guided them towards their designated docking bay. In a way it was a relief. Someone else blamed him, too.  

_If you hadn’t armed the bomb…_

But if he had waited until Shepard reached her, the geth would have killed him. The bomb wouldn’t have gone off.

_If you hadn’t armed the bomb…_

He stabbed at his haptic interface, looking for some useless scan to run, some pointless task to assign himself. “Where?” he said finally.

“Traverse. Pangaea Expanse. Planet called Ilos. Apparently Liara knows it.”

“So why are we here?”

“Because the Council wants to know what the hell happened on Virmire. And I don’t know, reinforcements might be nice.”

Kaidan bit back a retort. Joker regularly walked a knife’s edge of insubordination    , but right now Kaidan didn’t have the reserves to call him out on it. Instead he got unsteadily to his feet. Time to vacate the premises, before something happened they both regretted.

“Wait,” Joker said, heaving a sigh. “Don’t—just, sit, okay? I can’t watch you gimp around like that.”

Kaidan almost left anyway.  It wasn’t an apology, but it was as close as Joker was likely to get. So he sat back down.

_“SSV Normandy, prepare for docking clamps. Transferring ship controls.”_

“Don’t ding the paint,” Joker replied.

The ship shuddered as the docking clamps took hold with an audible thud. The engines throttled off, leaving the _Normandy_ silent and still.

Joker leaned back in his seat, hands coming to rest in his lap. “Virmire sucked.”

Ashley’s acute absence invaded Kaidan’s awareness again, resisting his efforts to push her away.

“Yeah,” he echoed. “It sucked.”

~

The airlock seals opened with a hiss and whiff of coolant. Liara shifted her feet anxiously as the doors slid open and invited in the dim roar of activity taking place in the docking bay. Beside her Shepard stood stoic and still, Alenko on his left with a closed, guarded expression on his face. Kirrahe and his surviving men had already gone through. In front of them Garrus and Dr. Chakwas guided an antigrav stretcher containing Tali. Garrus’ talons drummed nervously on the railing.

“Stop that,” the quarian admonished him, in a voice that sounded weak but undeniably alert. Garrus flicked an indignant mandible, tilting his chin towards her as Dr. Chakwas pushed the stretcher forward through the fully opened airlock.

“You’re awfully demanding for someone on a stretcher,” he replied, subharmonics ringing with affection. Liara suppressed a smile. Dr. Chakwas had brought Tali out of a medically induced coma upon their arrival, and the sound of her voice brought with it a strong sense of relief.

Even Shepard’s expression softened. “Think she’s earned the right to order us around a little.”

“Thank you, Shepard.”

“Dr. Rezora is going to examine her at a clinic in the upper Wards, Commander,” Dr. Chakwas said as they disembarked. “I’ll keep you posted.”

“I’ll be fine,” Tali informed them with a small wave of her hand.

“Good,” Shepard replied. “Because we aren’t done yet. I need you back on your feet.” As Dr. Chakwas and Garrus guided her to the elevator Shepard smiled.

“She’s tough,” he said.

Beside him Alenko nodded, expression carefully blank. “Has anyone told her?”

Shepard’s smile faded, a few signs of wear slipping past his carefully constructed façade. He swore that he’d slept, and Liara believed him, but how much and how well remained questionable. When he spoke she could feel the weight pressing down on each word.

“Garrus said he would.”  

A figure waiting for them on the docks cleared his throat. Liara looked up, frowning briefly before her eyes flew wide in recognition. Shepard strode to the darker skinned human, offering a greeting as they automatically fell into step beside each other. The human – a captain now – put a hand on Shepard’s shoulder in a gesture of familiarity as they spoke. Liara followed hesitantly, eyes darting quickly to Alenko. The lieutenant did not react, finding nothing striking about the reunion.

_I know who that is_ , Liara thought uncomfortably, even though she had never met him. He looked older now, skin more weathered and face marred by the onset of age. A sharp reminder of how quickly humans raced through their short years.

He was a figure that lurked behind the closed doors of Shepard’s mind – she had not expected to see him here, in the flesh.

Shepard’s status as a Spectre allowed them to bypass the customs line in C-Sec. The human, Anderson, led them swiftly to the human embassy on the Presidium.

The entire way, she did not take her eyes off Shepard. Standing next to Anderson, everything about him changed. His shoulders rolled where they should have been straight. His eyes, always boring a hole in or through what lay ahead of him, flicked more often to his feet. The invisible corridor he carved for himself through a sea of people narrowed noticeably – Liara watched as he turned to the side to let someone pass in a stairwell. The Shepard she knew existed in his own magnetic field – people always bent to give him space whether they realized it or not.

But not when he stood next to Anderson.

A volus padded past them as they entered the embassy lobby, nodding acknowledgement in their direction. Nearby an elcor droned on to the asari receptionist about a problem with the climate control in the elcor offices. Both species shared embassy space with the humans, three completely disparate races that somehow managed to work together in comparative peace, whether they wanted to or not.   

It was a unique quality of the Citadel. Nowhere else in the galaxy would so many different races mingle together on relatively equal footing. It was a far cry from a unified state of harmony, and it seemed at times that the divisive lines running through their disparate cultures only ran deeper here instead of shallower, but Liara at least had to give them credit. They came here, and they tried. Without the Citadel serving as some sort of neutral ground, where might they be?

Yet it had been built by the reapers.

A cold shudder ran down her spine. Nearby a human woman and an asari laughed, gazing into each other’s’ eyes with their fingers tightly intertwined.

_Each cycle discovers them. Shapes their development around them along the paths we desire_.

She almost tripped over a keeper. The green insectoid did not acknowledge her, merely waited for her to move out of its path. She’d nearly forgotten about their existence entirely. Despite their strangeness they blended so easily into the background.  

“You all right?”

She tore her eyes away from the odd creature to find Shepard a few steps ahead of her, looking back with concern. Anderson had also halted, an impatient scowl on his face.

“Yes,” she said, trying to shake off the yoke of unease now set firmly about her shoulders. She stepped away from the keeper and hurried to catch up.

A sour-faced man waited for them in the central office of the human embassy. _Donnell Udina_ , the plate on the door stated. He greeted Shepard with a disdain that seemed entirely mutual. The instant Shepard walked in the door his posture shifted to something verging on predatory. Even Alenko had a wary look on his face.

“Shepard,” Udina said in a clipped, nasal tone. “Since we last met you’ve managed to destroy a unique, sentient lifeform, rediscover the rachni and get an entire STG team killed. It seems you’re quite anxious to see to it you’re not only the first human Spectre but the _last_.”

Shepard shifted beside her. “I freed human colonists from mind control, stopped Matriarch Benezia, wiped out an army of indoctrinated krogan and discovered where Saren is going. I did my _job_ , Ambassador.”

Udina growled something under his breath. Captain Anderson sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Enough. We have bigger problems. Namely the fact that Shepard claims the ship Saren used to attack Eden Prime isn’t a ship.”

“It’s a reaper,” Shepard concurred, folding his arms across his chest. “It calls itself Sovereign. And according to it, the reapers have been culling the galaxy of organic life for millions of years.”

“Why?” Udina asked, his irritation momentarily placed aside.

“Does it matter why?” Shepard asked. “All I care about is that they appear to be after us. Sovereign is using Saren to set up their return somehow. The conduit is the key.”

“What _is_ it?”

Shepard and Liara exchanged glances. “We still don’t know. But we know where it is.”

“Ilos,” Anderson supplied, voice rumbling.

Liara hesitated, then spoke up. “It is a planet in the Refuge System.”

“I’m not familiar with it,” Udina said with a frown.

“It is on the other side of the Mu Relay,” she explained. “That relay has been lost for centuries. Humans have never traveled it. But according to the prothean beacon we encountered on Virmire, the protheans once colonized it.”

The gaze of everyone in the room rested squarely on her, and she felt a self-conscious flare of heat at the back of her neck. “The beacon is a warning. The protheans knew they were dying. Knew they could not save themselves. But they still fought.” Her heart ached at the pain and grief in that last, desperate message. The horrors they had endured in their final days, fighting a lost, hopeless battle that they nonetheless fought to the last.

“They hoped that whoever followed them would find their message. They…did something. Something that wouldn’t help them, but might help whoever came _after_ them. What is not clear. But whatever it is, we will find it on Ilos.”

Anderson rubbed his chin, glancing skeptically at Shepard and then Udina.

“What proof do you have of any of this?” Udina asked finally.

“We _talked_ to it,” Shepard replied.

“Yet there is no actual record of the conversation.”

Shepard threw up a hand. “Then what about the beacon?”

“Which one?” the ambassador replied in disgust. “The one you destroyed on Eden Prime, or the one you destroyed on Virmire? Shepard, time and again you have spoken of these reapers, but never have you been able to offer something more than your own word.”

“I’m telling you they’re out there,” Shepard said. “Right now we have a chance to do something about it.”

Doubt remained etched firmly on Udina’s face.

Liara’s fists curled in frustration. “Sovereign spoke of the reapers as infinite,” she spoke up, each word coming with more force than the last. “He said their return is imminent. Their numbers will darken the skies. Yet for some reason in this cycle it is seeking for assistance from an organic! The protheans _did_ something to stop them, or at least slow them down. Sovereign is using Saren to find out what it is, and how to undo it. We _have_ to stop him!”

“I need to speak to the Council,” Shepard said quietly, directing his gaze to Anderson rather than Udina. “I need an army. We know where he is. Time to send in the cavalry, sir. We don’t have a lot of time.”

~

Councilor Tevos eyed Liara coolly from her position on the dais overlooking the Council Chamber. They had met before. Benezia had dealt with Tevos numerous times when Liara was young, even helped her win her seat as Councilor centuries ago.

Liara remembered a dinner at her mother’s estate on Thessia that Tevos had attended, memorable only because she and Benezia had argued heatedly before the guests arrived. Liara had been scheduled to depart that night for a dig sponsored by the University of Serrice – her first such invitation. Benezia had not been fond of the idea that her daughter would not be present that night, so she had cancelled Liara’s ticket.

Liara had responded by deliberately bringing up Tevos’ poor handling of a trade agreement with the volus, a sore spot that the Councilor did not enjoy drawing attention to. Loudly discussing it in a room full of some of the most powerful asari in the galaxy had not gone over well. But Benezia had stopped demanding her presence for such gatherings.

Kirrahe joined them for their session with the Council. Councilor Valern listened with rapt attention as the STG captain went over the events of Virmire in uncomfortable detail.

“This is grievous news,” he said when Kirrahe finished, hands disappearing into the folds of his cloak. “Your men will of course receive posthumous commendations for their actions.”

“I hope the same will be done for the human, Gunnery Chief Williams,” Kirrahe replied. Beside Shepard, Alenko stirred.

Shepard nodded. “Without their sacrifice, this fight would already be over and Saren would have won.”

“The losses on Virmire are regrettable,” Sparatus spoke up. “However, Shepard is correct. And thanks to your efforts we can prepare accordingly. The Hierarchy is positioning ships in coordination with the _Destiny Ascension_ to protect the Citadel, and we are stationing patrols at every mass relay with access to Citadel space.”

“And how many are being sent to Ilos?” Shepard asked.

The three councilors exchanged glances, and Liara’s spirits sank.

“Ilos is located deep inside the Terminus systems, Commander,” Valern informed them. “Sending in a fleet would instigate open war.”

Beside her Shepard fumed, blue eyes glinting with fury. He strode forward until he reached the end of the dais. “You’re telling me you aren’t going after him.”

To Liara’s surprise – and Shepard’s – Udina put a hand on his arm. “Saren’s greatest weapon was in secrecy. Exposed, he is no longer a threat.”

“Did you listen to _anything_ Liara said?” he demanded, jerking away from the human ambassador. In spite of herself she felt a small flush of pride. “We have a chance to stop this. We need to _act_.”

“We will not risk all-out war with the Terminus Systems,” Tevos replied calmly. “Not when we can fortify the Citadel against him. Udina is correct. You have exposed him, Commander. Destroyed his armies. The threat has been neutralized.”

“If we wait until Saren brings the reapers to our doorstep we lose,” Shepard replied.

“There is no concrete evidence of these reapers you continue to speak of,” Valern interrupted. “The Council can only act upon the facts at our disposal. Without proof, any discussion of reapers remains circumstantial.”  

Shepard slammed his fist into the railing surrounding the dais. “Then send _me._ One ship won’t start a war. I can be…discreet.” His lips curled around the word in distaste.

Sparatus’ mandibles pulled tight to his jaw. “You detonated a nuclear bomb on Virmire. I hardly call that discreet.”

“Councilor,” Kirrahe interrupted, voice remarkably calm despite the twitch of his hand that betrayed his own irritation. “With all due respect, I believe that was the only course of action left at our disposal. Commander Shepard and I both made the call to use the device.”

Tevos raised a hand. “We respect your efforts, Captain Kirrahe. And Commander Shepard has done well in his pursuit of this matter. But we believe the situation is under control at this time.”

“And when he gets the conduit?” Shepard challenged. “Will it be under control then? You still act like Saren is the threat. He’s a pawn, Councilor. The reapers are coming. And fortifying the Citadel isn’t going to be enough.”

Sparatus sighed, then turned to Udina. “Ambassador, I get the sense the Commander isn’t willing to let this go.”

Udina’s brow furrowed, eyes flashing as he leaned towards Shepard. “You are walking across a political mindfield you don’t understand, Shepard,” he hissed. “You did your job, as you so politely informed me, and in the process helped humanity in the eyes of the Council. But now it’s time to do _my_ job, and you’re getting in the way.”    

The ambassador turned back to the Council and cleared his throat. “Commander Shepard’s assignment to track down Saren has been completed. We will respect the Council’s wishes and order him to stand down.”

“You bastards,” Alenko muttered under his breath, his characteristic equability fracturing at the seams.

“Udina,” Shepard started through clenched teeth. Udina held up his hand. “Thank you, Commander. That will be all. You and your team are dismissed.”

Shepard looked once more between the Council and Udina before spinning on his heel and striding away from the dais without another word.

_Goddess_ , Liara thought, heart racing. _What do we do now?_

~

“This is _bullshit_ , sir.”

Shepard did not even wait for the door to close behind his former captain. He’d sent Liara and Alenko back to the ship, with orders to sit tight until he returned.

Anderson sighed, laying a datapad on his desk and taking a seat. Shepard refused to follow suit. 

“I know, Shepard. But there isn’t much I can do. The situation is out of my hands.”

“Find Hackett. The Alliance still has some control over the _Normandy_. Have him give the order.”

“It’s not that simple,” Anderson objected, voice rising in warning. Shepard scowled. The captain rested his elbows on his desk, finger tapping at his jaw. The sleeve of his uniform slipped down just far enough that Shepard could make out a small, pale scar on his right wrist.

“For what it’s worth, I believe you. But the Alliance isn’t going to give an order to contradict the Council. Not when they’re trying this hard to get a seat.”

“We have to _stop_ , them, sir,” Shepard argued. “While there’s still time.”

Anderson’s features softened a little. “That’s one thing that’s never changed about you, son. Always been you against the galaxy. I’m glad you finally have a crew at your back who believes in you. About time someone did.”

Now it was Shepard’s turn to sigh. He rubbed the back of his neck, fingers probing the tension knotted there. “You’ve always had my back. Thanks for that.”

“You’ve come a long way.”

Shepard finally sat down in a chair across from Anderson’s desk. It wasn’t often these days that Anderson spoke to him as a mentor rather than a commanding officer. Hearing that voice again made him feel old. “Doesn’t feel that way most times.”

Anderson eyed him silently. After a moment he leaned forward. “I’ll talk to Udina. See if there’s anything I can do. In the meantime, why don’t you take a break for a minute? Catch your breath.”

“While Saren gets closer and closer to what he’s after,” Shepard grumbled. He got to his feet again, then paused. “I want Ashley Williams to receive the Star of Terra.”

“I read your report,” Anderson said with a nod. “I’ll start the process.”

“Thank you.”

He opened his mouth to say something more, but he was interrupted by his comm.

_“Commander_.”

“Joker?” Shepard asked, detecting something in the pilot’s voice that immediately set him on edge. “What’s wrong?”

“ _I’m locked out of the Normandy’s systems. What the hell is going on?”_

Shepard jerked, eyes meeting Anderson’s with a sudden spate of rage. Anderson, to his credit, looked genuinely confused. “What do you mean you’re locked out?”

“ _I mean Citadel Control took her offline, apparently on the orders of the Council! We’re grounded, Commander.”_

Anderson swore, slamming his palm against his desk.

“Sit tight,” Shepard told his pilot, eyes never leaving Anderson’s face.

“ _Don’t have any other options, sir.”_

“Shepard, I’m sorry,” Anderson said. “I didn’t know.”

Shepard rubbed the bridge of his nose, anger tasting like oil in the back of his throat. “Why,” he said eventually. “Dammit, Anderson, _why?_ I’ve done everything they asked!”

For a moment there was silence. Shepard thought of all the times he’d stood in front of Anderson just like this – after Torfan. After Elysium. And once years ago, when Shepard was fifteen, and Anderson had a fresh bandage over that scar.

“And more,” the captain agreed finally. Something in his voice treaded dangerously towards pity, which only made things worse.

Shepard ran a frustrated hand over his head. “So I’m just supposed to _sit_ here and let Saren win?”

Anderson’s grave expression didn’t change. “You’ll find a way back in, son.” 

“How?”

“You’re a Spectre,” Anderson said sharply. “And an Alliance soldier. Make it happen. It’s what you’re best at.”

Shepard straightened a little, but did not salute. “Yes, sir.”

Shortly after he left Anderson’s office and made his way back through the Presidium towards the docking bay, doubt still gnawing at his heels. 

Despite his old CO’s words, somehow he couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d already lost.


	47. Eulogia

Liara found Shepard in the docking bay, gazing out at the _Normandy’s_ hull with elbows resting on a railing, the straight line of his shoulders bowing in the center. To the casual eye he looked almost relaxed, posture languid, expression distant, nothing more than a daydreamer watching the ships come and go. It wasn’t until she got closer that Liara caught the restless drum of his fingers, the awkward cant of the left hip that still bothered him. Shepard didn’t relax. He shifted load from the weak parts to the sturdy ones, and let everyone around him buy into the illusion.

He glanced briefly in her direction when she came up beside him, offering a half smile before turning his attention back to his ship.

“How are you?” she asked.

One shoulder rose in a shrug. He lowered his chin, studying his hands. “Kind of an odd feeling to bust your ass, race against time and sacrifice members of your crew to make some desperate attempt to literally preserve life as we know it, only to look up and suddenly realize you’re the only one who gives a damn about any of it.”

She slid a little closer to him. Debated reaching for his hand. Decided against it. “They’re making a mistake.”

“Damn right they are.” His brow deepened into a scowl.

“You’ll find a way.”

“Anderson said something similar,” Shepard said with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Don’t suppose you have any ideas?”

“Believe me, if I do you will be the first to know.”

That brought a small smile to his face. Liara studied him for a moment. Taking a shallow breath, she tilted her chin and ventured a question.

“Shepard…do you mind if I ask you something? It’s personal. You do not need to answer.”

For a moment he was silent, gaze still on his ship. Just as she was about to apologize he ran one hand over his short-clipped hair. “You want to ask about Anderson, don’t you?”

She tried to cover her surprise. “I am sorry. It’s not my business.”

He smiled, gave her a look that was almost…shy. “Liara, I’m pretty sure you and I blitzed right on past any conventional personal boundaries a long time ago. It’s ok.”

She flushed. “The meld is…deeply personal, Shepard. But there are always boundaries. I would never disrespect them.”

“I know,” he said after a moment. This time he was the one who shifted a little closer. “So you did recognize him, then. I wondered.” He ducked his head a little. “Didn’t know if you’d…seen that part.”

“Anderson found you in that grain silo,” she confirmed. “He was the one in the doorway.”

Shepard nodded, expression distant. “I thought he was a batarian. Cut him with that kitchen knife when he tried to talk me down. Right on the top of his wrist. Right down to the bone.” He exhaled through his nose, expression caught somewhere between disbelief and admiration. “He didn’t let go of me. Got me in his arms and held on until I stopped kicking and started crying. Had to carry me out of there. Turns out once you notice you’ve just sprinted six miles with a gaping chest wound you suddenly realize you shouldn’t actually still be on your feet.”

She regarded him solemnly. The acute memory of those twin sawblades, the crunch of bone and the burn of overused lungs remained razor sharp in her memory. “He means a great deal to you.”

“He gave a damn when he didn’t have to,” Shepard said with another shrug. This time he looked away. “I wasn’t exactly easy to handle after that. I had decent foster parents, but no one wants to deal with an angry kid who jumps every time he hears a loud noise and screams half the night. Anderson stayed in touch. When I fell off the grid he used his own damn leave to come track me down, drag me back from whatever hole I’d fallen into. Goaded me into joining the Alliance. Abused a little power to make sure someone gave me a shot. I still have no idea why. I think I’ve caused more trouble for him than anything else.”

“He believes in you,” Liara said simply. “And so do I.”

“Mind spreading that around a little?” he said with a crooked smile.

This time she did reach for his hand. The trick was not thinking about it. His fingers stiffened slightly in surprise, then relaxed, fingers torqueing until they threaded with hers.

“You know,” he said after a moment. “If I were a normal person, I’d ask you to dinner. Take you out for a night on the town. Dancing is a thing people do, right?”

Her heart quickened. “Oh? And why couldn’t we…do those things?”

“Because when I go out to eat reporters watch me like a hawk. The last time I went out on the town on the Citadel it ended in a firefight.” He tilted his head. “Though we did meet Tali, so that one at least had a perk.”

“And the dancing?” she asked.

He grimaced. “It would end in total humiliation and probably a broken foot. Yours.”

She laughed, and leaned her head against his arm. “So what do we do instead?”

“I don’t know,” he said, expression thoughtful. “My realm of expertise ends at rifle mods and hardsuit modifications. You’ve caught me a little out of my element.”

“I think I like this side of you,” she said softly, tightening her grip on his hand.

“Just wait until the next thing explodes. I have a knack for making things explode. It’s usually a turnoff.” He angled his head to get a better look at her. “In fact I’d go as far as to say you have really terrible taste.”

“I dig up fifty thousand year old relics for fun, Shepard. You found me in a volcano, remember? My definition of a good time is a little…skewed.”

He chuckled. She felt it through his arm. “So I’m guessing a beach isn’t in either of our futures.”

“Perhaps a secluded jungle,” she suggested. “One with ruins to explore.”

“In which heavily armed mercs inevitably find us and we barricade ourselves in some ancient temple with nothing but a pistol between us.”

She snapped her fingers, eliciting a blue spark. “Not just a pistol. And don’t you always carry grenades?”

“Right. Grenades. Because explosions.”

She smiled. “So what happens next?”

“I’d disorient them with a grenade.”

“For the explosion.”

“Right. Then you’d trap them in a singularity. And we see if I can top Garrus’s headshot streak. I’m pretty good with a pistol.”

“Sounds romantic.”

“I’m not even done yet.”

“Oh?”

He twisted his body towards her, letting go of her hand and dislodging her from his arm. Before she could react he kissed her, hesitant at first, then long and deep. She feel headfirst into it, heat spreading right down to her toes, hand sliding up the rim of his spine as he hooked an arm around her waist and drew her to him. His body was warm, the stubble on his chin prickling unexpectedly against her skin. He was surprisingly gentle for someone who went through life with an arsenal strapped to his back.

The loud bang of an adjacent docking clamp followed by a hiss of coolant broke them apart. Shepard’s skin was flushed, breath coming short, eyes glittering blue.

“Ok,” he managed. “Why did we wait so long to do that?”

“The mission comes first,” she murmured.

His entire body stiffened, and she would have given anything to take the words back.

“Right,” he said, pulling away.

“Shepard—”

“No. You’re right. I can’t…we have to find a way out of this mess. Stop Saren. No one else will do it, so it has to be us. And that’s all that matters. At least right now. But after we’re done…”

She put a hand to his cheek. “And what if there is no after?”

He covered her hand with his own. “I’ll make one.”

~

Joker regarded the red block over his haptic interface with a look of pure venom.

 _His_ ship. They’d locked him out of his own damn ship. The cold reminder that the thing that defined him was something that could be taken away had not done his mood any favors.

Neither had Shepard, who had returned to the ship about an hour ago with hardly a word. Liara wasn’t far behind him, and she was just as chatty.

Chase stuck her head in the cockpit, blonde hair hanging loose around her shoulders. “I don’t think staring at it is going to rescind the lockdown,” she informed him.  “Why don’t you take a break? Get a change of scenery. Go get something to eat on the Citadel.”

“Overpriced food in the middle of high society where even the waiters think they’re better than you? No thanks.”

“I hear there’s a good sushi place in the wards,” she suggested in a singong voice. Joker tugged the brim of his cap lower and scowled.

“There are probably nine hundred sushi restaurants in the wards, and the odds of me getting to any of them without breaking a bone takes a little of the fun out of it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Can’t say I didn’t try.”

Joker heard the airlock cycle start. Fantastic. She was leaving. He could sulk in peace. But moments after the cycle finished it started back up again. Eventually a very confused helmsman stuck her head back into view.

“Um. Joker?”

“ _What?_ ”

“There’s a guy out here with a cart. Said he has a delivery for you? Been trying to get you on the comm.”

Joker sat up with a start, frowning. “They locked down our Citadel comm lines. And I haven’t ordered anything. What is it?”

“He’s from a restaurant called Pad Thai. Did you order take out to the ship? Really?” Her bemused look faded at the sight of Joker’s face. “Joker?”

“Nothing,” the pilot said, numb. “Um, nothing. Tell him to bring it on board.” He reached for his crutches and struggled to his feet, Chase still staring at him. He scowled. “ _Please_?”

She nodded and headed back for the airlock. Joker fidgeted with his hands for a moment, then activated the comm.

“Alenko.”

After a pause, the lieutenant responded. “ _Yeah, Joker. What do you need?”_

He chewed his lip. “Do me a favor. Grab Shepard and meet me in the mess.”

“ _What’s up?”_

“I’m treating you to lunch.”

_“Um…sure.”_

Joker didn’t bother to explain. He thought that if he did Alenko might not show. Misery loved company, dammit, and there was no way he was eating this meal alone.

~

Sure enough, Alenko looked like he might be sick when Joker informed him why he had Thai food spread out across a table in the mess. But Shepard, whose face had moments ago been made of impenetrable stone, actually smiled.

“I’ll be damned,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Ashley Williams delivers.”

She sure had. Even made sure he got actual tableware, not plastic. Just like he’d asked. And she’s ordered enough to feed half the ship. Joker picked up a fork and poked around at the various dishes on display. Pad see-ew, kang pa, satay, massaman curry…it looked like she’d ordered basically everything on the menu.

Joker could almost see her, sitting in the cockpit with her boots propped on the console, smirking while she examined her nails. _We had a deal. You think death would be enough for me to renege?_

Apparently it wasn’t.

Joker had no idea if either of them even liked Thai food, or in Shepard’s case had ever had it before, but it didn’t stop them from filling their plates.

At first they sat in awkward silence. Joker picked at his initially – pad see-ew was his perennial favorite, and he had a hearty helping of it – but upon realizing that she hadn’t just gotten him Thai food, she’d gotten him _really good_ Thai food, he dug in with a little more gusto. Shepard chewed thoughtfully, sampling almost everything with particular emphasis on the kang pa. Joker could have figured him for the kind of person who liked to scald his taste buds.

Joker pointed at the bowl. “I think we could probably run the _Normandy’s_ engines off that.”

Shepard put another spoonful in his mouth, shrugging thoughtfully. “Might be right,” he said once he’d swallowed. “But it’d be a waste of good food.” He glanced at Alenko, who hadn’t done much more than pick at his plate, a closed, drawn expression on his face.

Maybe the only company misery didn’t want was someone who was _more_ miserable. Joker cleared his throat a little and reached for his napkin. Spicy food always made his nose run.

Out of the blue Shepard chuckled, causing both Joker and Alenko to look up in surprise.

“Remember when she came on board, and had to clomp around in those Phoenix boots until we got to the Citadel?”

A slow smile spread across Joker’s face. “She owned those pink boots. The moment I laid eyes on them she gave me this _look_ , like if I even dared to say anything she’d happily smash my face into a bulkhead.”

“Pretty sure she would have done exactly that,” Shepard agreed. He leaned back in his seat, huffing a little. “She was special. Not many soldiers like her out there.”

“She sparred with a krogan. _Voluntarily_. Pretty sure there aren’t _any_ soldiers like her out there.”

Alenko’s chair grated noisily against the deckplates as he stood up. “Excuse me,” he murmured. “I’ve got something I need to take care of.” He hesitated for a moment, his haste to be anywhere but right there plastered painfully across his features. “Thanks, Joker.”

The pilot nodded wordlessly as Alenko hurried away from the mess. “That went well,” he muttered once he’d disappeared into the elevator.

Shepard poked at some Pad Thai, expression dark. Joker had his suspicions about Alenko and Williams, which Shepard apparently either shared or knew with more certainty than he did. But he wasn’t about to ask. They were down a crewman. Their ship was in shackles. And the Council had basically laughed Shepard out of the Citadel Tower.

Bigger fish to fry. And until he got his ship back, there was nothing Joker could do about any of it. 

After a moment Shepard held up his Thai iced tea. “To Ashley Williams,” he said.

Joker clinked his glass. “To Ashley Williams.”

~

The cargo bay was quiet when the elevator doors opened. Most of the crew had dispersed to the Citadel, leaving Kaidan mercifully alone in the cavernous space. Slowly he made his way towards the lockers, the scar tissue and healing sinews in his abdomen like a knot that someone had doused with gasoline and set on fire.

But still healing.  

_(This is it. This is how I’m going to die.)_

Kaidan exhaled.

If he closed his eyes he could still see the numbers in his HUD, always hovering right above zero, a perpetuating terminus never quite reached, never quite avoided.

When he reached the lockers he stopped, hand halfway to the one marked, _Williams, A._

If he went by the book this should be Gladstone’s job. There was no reason it shouldn’t be Gladstone’s job.

_(You know it’s the right choice.)_

But it wasn’t Gladstone’s job.

The click of the locker door echoed loud enough that he flinched before drawing in a deep breath and pulling it all the way open. She hadn’t lied about her uniforms. Every shirt hung crisp and straight on its hanger, in sharp contrast to the chaotic pile of belongings tossed heedlessly on the ground below it. The pile was so impressive he was actually afraid to take anything out, for fear it would cause an outright avalanche. In spite of himself he shook his head and smiled a little.

“Somehow this is exactly what I expected from you,” he said under his breath. He heard a creak behind him and whipped his head around, heart rate thudding as though he expected to find her peering over his shoulder, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. A flush crept up the back of his neck.

Of course there was nothing. Ashley was dead.

His gripped the locker door until his knuckles whitened, leaned his forehead briefly against it. The metal felt cool and hard against his skin. He swallowed once. Twice.  

Eventually he straightened with a sigh, tugging at his uniform and rolling his shoulder, as though he could somehow shake Ashley off like working out a crick in his neck.  By the time his fingers brushed the cloth of her fatigues their subtle quiver had been swallowed up by the hard-earned discipline he’d practiced so diligently ever since Jump Zero.

 _(Kaidan Alenko. Always looking for the sure thing. Everything needs to be perfectly defined and spelled out for you, doesn’t it? Sometimes the unknown can be a little exciting, too._ )

A static spark stung his finger as he emptied the hangers. He jerked his hand back, muttering, used to the burn, never the timing. Slowly he reached back in, painstakingly folding each shirt with precision he hadn’t employed since Basic.

_(You find a wrinkle in my uniform and I’ll clean your pistol for a month.)_

He made each crease razor sharp. Not a wrinkle to be found.

Once the clothing had been stored, he began taking apart the pile she had accumulated in her locker. Datapads with poetry. She liked Cummings and Yeats, Plath and Elizabeth Bishop. He remembered Joker saying something about Heinlein. Kaidan hadn’t intended to look through them, but shortly he found himself cross-legged on the floor, skimming through lines and verses. It was easy to tell her favorites – she’d annotated them heavily. Underlined phrases, personal reflections. In some cases she’d made notes that he didn’t understand, such as the one beside a line from a poem by Elizabeth Browning that simply read, _Josh_ , and in parenthesis ( _the little shit)._

She also had a copy of the Bible, which gave him pause. It wasn’t a datapad either but an actual book, pages dog-eared, corners bent and turned down, small makeshift bookmarks such as scraps of paper, paper clips, even a hair tie, sticking out at all angles. Like the datapads it was covered in notes, but all of these handwritten, in scripts of multiple hands. Some tiny and neat, others broad and flowing. Though he didn’t think he’d ever seen a sample of Ashley’s handwriting he immediately found one he thought had to be hers – small but hurried, with the occasional loopy flourish. It tended to start out neat, but quickly deteriorated when her hand couldn’t keep up with her thoughts, until it was nearly illegible.

The inside cover contained four handwritten paragraphs, each in a different script that he recognized from the subsequent pages. Each a note from parent to child, passing the heirloom on with messages of faith and love. Four generations of Williams, right there on one page.

Kaidan ran his fingers across the script, tracing the shallow grooves the pen made against the paper. General David Williams, of Shanxi infamy, bequeathing it to his son Matthew Williams, with a note.

  _Our faith is our legacy. We keep to it and carry on, no matter the cost. And when that task is difficult, remember those who’ve walked a harder road with lesser reward. We are blessed. I am blessed. Because I have you._

 Serviceman Williams then wrote to his daughter, _There’s a great wide universe out there waiting for you. I hope you explore it to the fullest. If you ever get lost, look here and see if you can’t find your way. Remember, kiddo. Ad aspera per astra._

Kaidan’s hands loosened, allowing the book’s spine to droop. A few pages whispered past his thumb. The hair tie bookmark fell out, ghosting to the floor without fanfare.

 He snatched it up with a hot flash of guilt and held it aloft. What page did it come from? What place had he lost? How important had it been?

He didn’t know.

There was _so_ much he didn’t know. So much he’d never learn.

He stared at the hair tie. Nothing more than a simple strip of dark blue elastic, still twined with a few strands of long, dark brown hair. She probably had a few dozen just like it. She’d worn two in her hair, at all times. One to pull it back into a ponytail, one to wrap around the thick twist of her bun and secure it in place. Usually she kept a third around her wrist, just for emergencies.

But they were never enough to hold back those few stubborn, errant strands that inevitably pulled free to waft about her face.

Moisture burned the corner of his eyes. His fingers curled around the small token, and he put his newly formed fist to his mouth to stifle the sound brewing in his throat. One choked sob got through before he swallowed the rest back, chest aching from the effort. He wicked a thumb across his eyes, hastily tucked the hair tie back between the pages and set the book aside.

This wasn’t his. The grief and memories trapped within the Bible’s covers were for her family, not for him.

But it shouldn’t be for anyone. It should be _his_ things exposed to the harsh light of the cargo bay, meticulously sorted and stored, itemized on a manifest and marked for shipping back to Vancouver, care of Lúcio and Ella Alenko.

His throat tightened, hitching breath loud against the silent backdrop of the cargo bay. Not even the sound of the engines to provide some white noise. 

Nothing like this would be found among his own belongings. He spoke to his folks a couple of times a year. Hadn’t been back to Vancouver in almost three. When he did it tended to be strained small talk and careful avoidance of anything to do with the mutated eezo nodes lurking under his skin. He’d actually thought running off to the Alliance might help. Follow in his father’s footstep. Give them something in common. That, of course, and he’d had nowhere else to go.

Would his own family have mourned him the way Ashley Williams’ would mourn her?

Would she?

 _Stop_.

He raked a hand through his hair, fingers eventually coming to rest against his forehead. His head felt heavy. Too heavy to hold up, like a lead weight.

_(They’re more important. We’re as good as dead up here anyway.)_

He wondered who would inherit the Bible now that Ashley was gone. One of her sisters, maybe. Sisters who probably had yet to learn about what had happened down on Virmire. 

_(Kaidan, what the hell are you doing?)_

_(This bomb is going off! No matter what.)_

No matter what. 0.00. He’d been ready for it. Ready for anything. Except Shepard’s hand, grabbing him by the arm.

Further down in the pile he found smaller items. Toiletries. A stuffed hanar _,_ of all things. A bottle of liquor she must have picked up on Noveria.

_(Just for the record, I’d look damn good in a dress.)_

He swallowed against a lump in his throat, chest constricting. He could see her so clearly, standing at the railing in Port Hanshan, alternating between slouching and gripping the rail with her hands and leaning back on her heels.

_(I’m not most people.)_

No. She hadn’t been.

He found some packing material for the liquor. It was scotch, an asari brand, maybe purchased to share with Liara. Why it hadn’t been drunk he couldn’t say. Maybe she just ran out of time.  

Next was a holo album containing a few photos. People he didn’t recognize. A woman that looked too much like her not to be her mother. A young girl with a grin he recognized from those brief moments in the comm room. Before…

_Stop!_

Kaidan put the holo aside, then rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. Took a deep breath in. Let it out slow. Clamped his eyes shut. For a moment, everything shook. His hands. The air in his lungs. His skin felt hot, but prickled with gooseflesh.   

Breathe in. Breathe out.  

Eventually he opened his eyes. Went back to the pile. _Finish it, marine. Don’t leave her hanging._

In all her possessions were scant, just what she’d been able to obtain or accumulate since they’d picked her up on Eden Prime. In fact, how the Bible and holo album had even managed to catch up with her struck him as a bit of a mystery.

But when he got to the bottom of the pile his hand froze, mouth dry as a shock of white hot cold strummed the length of his spine, numbness dulling his fingers until they felt thick and clumsy.

It shouldn’t have surprised him. After all, she’d died in her combat gear. Not her fatigues. Of course they would be here.

This time no amount of discipline could overcome his shaking hands as he picked one up and turned it over in his palms.

A neon green boot with matching laces, so bright they nearly glowed in the dim light of the cargo bay.

His gut clenched, chest so tight he couldn’t breathe, the edges of his vision blurring until something hot and wet spilled over onto his cheeks.

_(Come on.)_

_(Whoa, where are we going? Anderson said to wait here.)_

_(Come on, LT. Think we’ll ever get to poke around here again? Live a little.)_

Only he hadn’t. She’d been right there. _Right there._ And he hadn’t.  

_(Tell me you haven’t thought about this.)_

_(Thinking’s not the same as doing. Maybe, once all this is behind us…)_

He dropped the boot, back slamming against the lockers as he buried his head in his hands, the grief that he’d stored down deep in his chest ever since that timer reached zero breaching the damn in a flood of hot tears. He wept himself hollow, hot, swollen and aching, exhaustion creeping in until he felt it laying heavily over his skin, behind his eyes, in the pit of his stomach. Then he just sat silent, eyes red and heavy, arms resting on his knees.

A hulking shape appeared above him. Had he not felt so drained he might have cared more about discovering he hadn’t been alone after all. But when Wrex’s red, horny crest came into view he met the krogan’s fierce stare without shame. Whatever the krogan had to say, he was beyond giving a damn.

“She was a warrior worth mourning,” Wrex said.

Kaidan straightened his posture with mild surprise, but said nothing.

“Shepard chose his companions well. Even those I at first didn’t give him credit for.” He offered a scaly hand, which Kaidan accepted warily. Wrex hauled him effortlessly to his feet, and gave him a brusque nod.

“You are _krantt._ ”

Kaidan wasn’t sure how to respond, but Wrex saved him the trouble by ambling away without further comment. The krogan had been nearly invisible since their return from Virmire. After finding him here Kaidan wasn’t even sure if he’d even left the ship.

He hadn’t considered the possibility that a krogan might mourn a human soldier. But Ashley…had that effect on people.

With a wipe of his eyes Kaidan began piling Ashley’s things into a crate. Once the locker was empty he sealed it, then closed the crate up as well and entered it into the ship’s inventory for the requisitions offer to offload and send to her family. By the time he finished, his grief had been replaced by grim, dogged resolve.

 _We’re coming for you, Saren. May God help you, you bastard._   


	48. Seditio

Moments like this, Garrus really wished he could see through the mask.

Tali didn’t make a sound after he broke the news to her about Williams. No tears (did quarians cry? Spirits, he didn’t know). She angled her head away from him, staring off to the side of her medical bed, hands clasped across her stomach. One of Garrus’ talons flicked as he almost reached for her hand, then changed his mind when her fists clenched and dropped it hastily back in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead.

Useless platitudes. Ashley Williams was worth a lot more than _I’m sorry_. So was Tali.

After a long silence, during which Garrus fidgeted with his talons and Tali remained painfully still, a small sigh escaped her throat. Over her vocal emitters it sounded more like a wheeze.

“We were going to watch _Fleet and Flotilla_ after the mission.”

A mandible flared. “Fleet and…what?”

She shook her head, the crisp white sheets underneath her whispering with each swish. “Nothing. I…how is Kaidan?”

“Alenko?” Garrus asked, slowly realizing he was woefully underprepared for this conversation. “Um, not sure. He seemed ok when we left the _Normandy_.”

He looked down in surprise as one hand came to rest on Garrus’ arm. The golden silhouette of her eyes beneath the faceplate scrutinized him carefully.  “He’s probably not okay. Please check on him for me. Will you?”

 “Of course,” he replied, not entirely sure how to broach _that_ subject with a human. It seemed like something that fell more into Shepard’s territory, but Shepard had devoted enough time to checking up on his crewmates. In fact, it might not be a bad idea for one of them to check on _him_ every now and then.

Nearby Dr. Rezora fiddled with one of the machines hooked into Tali’s suit – one of three, which was down from five yesterday. Garrus considered that progress. Progress was good.

Dr. Michel smiled at him as she passed by. Dr. Rezorah had wanted to take Tali to some place on the Presidium, but Garrus had objected. She was a member of Shepard’s crew, and if Saren had any contacts left within the Citadel they’d come gunning for her. Garrus trusted Dr. Michel, and she knew a thing or two about quarians to boot. Besides, there was a certain irony to being here yet again, where their chase for Saren had started.

He didn’t let himself wonder if this was also where it was going to finish.

No. Shepard was down, not out.

Dr. Rezorah disconnected one of the tubes hooked into Tali’s suit with a hiss of air (two – two down from five was more progress) and tapped a few commands into her omnitool. Her rich blue suit sported gold trim that was elegant but much more subdued than many of the quarian suits Garrus had seen. Any attempts to initiate conversation had been politely deflected, so he’d resigned himself to monitoring the door and contemplating some additional security protocols he could lay down before leaving.  

“The azerpan is producing favorable results,” Rezorah said in a clipped, businesslike tone. Her voice had a similar lilt to Tali’s, but lacked its warmth. With a satisfied nod she bustled away.

Tali leaned towards him conspiratorially. “I think she’s afraid of my father,” she whispered.

Garrus tilted his head in confusion.

“Treating the Admiral’s daughter?” she prodded, elbowing him weakly. “Hate to blow that one, wouldn’t you?

“Well, if it were _my_ father I’d be bracing myself for a lecture on my fundamental lack of understanding when it comes to the benefits of taking cover.”

She patted his talons. “I think we have a monopoly on difficult parents.”

“Or at least a keen understanding of them,” he concurred.  

 “Garrus?” Tali asked after a moment, her voice sounding even smaller and more vulnerable than it had a moment ago. He shifted again in his seat, leaning forward and torqueing his talons under her hand so he could squeeze her fingers.

“Yes?” he asked, thankful she couldn’t detect the small flange of alarm that ran through his subharmonics. 

“Do you think the _Normandy_ will leave without me?”

His mandibles flared in surprise. “Tali, we’re not going anywhere. The Council put us all on lockdown. We’re stuck.”

She readjusted her shoulders to give herself a better angle, and Garrus found himself leaning forward just a little so she could see him better without having to move any more than necessary. They had her lying flat, something to do with the medication, making her primary visual field consist mostly of the ceiling.

“Shepard’s going to figure something out, though,” she insisted. “He’s not going to _stay_ stuck here. And if something happens, something sudden…” She sighed. “I guess I just don’t like the idea of not being there. We’ve come so _far_. We’re so close!”

He squeezed her hand again. “When we take down Saren, you’ll be there. I promise.”

Tali’s shoulders relaxed. They were just words, and both of them knew it, but somehow they still provided comfort.

“I _still_ can’t believe you got out of the Mako to attack one of those colossal things on _foot_. It nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“But it _worked_ , didn’t it?”

Garrus chuckled. “It sure did. You’re in a league of your own, Tali.”

His omnitool chirped, _again_. Already he’d gotten more than a couple of messages from old C-Sec contacts asking if he was going to re-join the force now that he was back on the Citadel. A few of them had come from people who only hoped he’d try just so Pallin could shoot him down, and he was tired of ignoring them.

But when he looked at the sender of the message his mandible flicked. Shepard.

_Get your ass out here fast. I’m in the upper Ward markets._

_Damn,_ Garrus thought. A quick tap into C-Sec channels revealed no emergency alerts for this part of the station, which at least meant no weapons discharge. Yet. Though with Shepard that could sure change in a hurry.

Garrus had a sidearm, but nothing heavier. It would have to be enough. No time to grab his rifle.

“Tali, I have to go,” he said, the alarm creeping back strong enough that it resonated on a frequency a non-turian could detect. “It’s Shepard. I think something’s wrong.”

~

By the time Garrus reached the markets he’d convinced himself that an army of Saren’s men had somehow managed to corner the commander and were ready to execute him. So when he found Shepard standing at ease near a kiosk, engaged in conversation with another human and no imminent threat apparent, it took a minute to regroup.

Upon closer inspection he noted the bored cross of Shepard’s arms over his chest, the glassy, checked-out expression on his face and the faint twitch at the corner of his eyes, much like the one Garrus had seen in abundance in Port Hanshan. The other human did not appear to be anyone particularly special – not a diplomat, not a reporter. Just a civilian with moderate build and blonde fringe that surrounded his mouth and covered his head, who radiated undisguised _awe_ towards Shepard. 

“They say you killed over a _hundred_ geth on Eden Prime!”

Shepard cleared his throat, a pained expression crossing his face. “Well, I was more concerned with stopping the colony from blowing up than counting bodies,” he replied.

“Oh, of _course._ All the vids talk about what a hero you are. First human Spectre, showing the galaxy what humans can do! You don’t take crap from _anyone_.”

Shepard rubbed the back of his neck, looking more desperate by the second. “Well. Um. It’s a big responsibility.”

The human’s eyes lit up, and he reached out suddenly to touch Shepard’s arm. The commander’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment Garrus thought he might _actually_ pull out his pistol.

“Shepard,” the overeager human asked. “I have an idea I’d like to run by you.”

Shepard swiftly tugged his arm away, trying and failing to conceal his displeasure. “Look, I don’t have time to—”

“ _So_ many human colonies are being attacked! I’m not sure one Spectre is enough. What if you signed me on, too?”

Shepard pressed his fingers to his forehead, free hand gesturing in irritation. “Conrad, I haven’t been shot in the head _nearly_ enough times for that to sound like a good idea.”

Garrus snorted, quickly putting a talon up to his mouth to stifle the sound.

“I’d make a great Spectre! Fighting right beside you, showing everyone what humanity is capable of! I heard about what you did on Torfan. I’m ready to do _whatever_ it takes.”

Shepard’s shoulders snapped backward, the pained expression vanishing from his face. In a flash Garrus managed to wedge himself between them, clamping a talon down on the commander’s shoulders and pushing an urgent flare through his subharmonics.

“Shepard, quick. The Council needs to see you right away.” His eyes darted to the awestruck human. “It’s…uh, a matter of galactic security.”

Shepard’s shoulders sagged with relief. He offered the human a strained smile. “Sorry, Conrad. I have to go.”

“Oh, of _course._ Good luck, out there, Shepard! And think about what I said! _”_

Garrus steered Shepard away, not daring to let go of his shoulder until they were well clear.

“Thank God,” Shepard muttered.

“Who _was_ that?”

Shepard ran a thumb across his forehead. “I have no idea. Some…fan. Garrus. Who the hell would want a photo of me in their living room?”

“He asked for a picture?”

“Yeah. And not _with_ me. _Of_ me. You know, it’s been bad enough having reporters follow me around everywhere. Ever since Elysium it’s like they sit around and wait to see how I can either make myself look like an ass or sound like an ass. I nearly decked one who jumped me with a camera crew at the docking elevator in C-Sec. But this new trend of random people coming up and wanting my autograph? I think I’d rather fight rachni.”

“Commander Shepard,” Garrus mused. “Goes toe to toe with Saren without a lick of fear, but can’t handle civilians looking for an autograph.”

“Yeah, you can’t _shoot_ civilians when they annoy you.”

“That _almost_ didn’t stop you just now.”

“Do me a favor and don’t tell anyone.”

Garrus laughed. “So what are you doing down here, anyway?”

“Stocking up,” Shepard replied. “I’m finding a way off this station somehow, and I when we get our hands on Saren I plan to be armed to the teeth.”

 _Armed to the teeth_. Garrus almost asked how humans armed their teeth, but changed his mind quickly when he noticed that even though they’d moved to a more secluded area, a crowd had already begun to form. Curious onlookers all eying Shepard, debating whether or not to approach him. With a narrow slant of his eyes Shepard began walking towards the nearest elevator. Garrus followed.

“Have you checked with C-Sec requisitions? They supply Spectre gear you can’t get from most merchants.”

Garrus nearly tripped when Shepard halted mid-stride. “Wait. They have weapons and armor designated specifically for Spectres?”

“Prototype gear.” Garrus tilted his head. “You mean you didn’t know?”

“Well there isn’t exactly a Spectre handbook floating around.”

Garrus coughed. Shepard’s expression became instantly wary.

“Don’t _even_ tell me.”

“I’m sure we were just in such a hurry to get after Saren that no one thought about it? Besides, somehow I doubt you would have read it.”

“You’re telling me they have _weapons and armor designated just for Spectres_. That would have come in a little handy a couple of times.”

Garrus’ mandibles quivered. “Well, better late than never, I guess. Come on, I’ll take you to the requisitions officer.”

“If we run into any reporters on the way, I can’t promise I won’t shoot them.”

“I won’t let you shoot a reporter. Or a civilian.”

“Thank you. I’d rather not lose my ship _and_ wind up in custody all in the same day.”

“Even if you did, sir, it sounds like your friend Conrad would come to the rescue.”

Garrus _felt_ Shepard’s glare without needing to turn around.

“Garrus.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“No problem, sir.”

~

Shepard turned the assault rifle over in his hands, the pinched lines of his face considerably smoother. Garrus couldn’t help but note it was the happiest he’d seemed all day.

“HMWA X,” the requisitions officer said. He was turian, someone Garrus had met before but couldn’t remember his name. “Top of the line. Uses experimental alloysy to improve heat absorption, and has incredible recoil reduction made possible by rapidly oscillating mass effect fields that adjust mass as the weapon fires.”

“Adjust it how?” Shepard asked.

“It goes lighter and heavier between rounds. Each unit requires precise calibrations to match slight variations in fire rate, but it reduces recoil and heat generation, _and_ increases stopping power by firing larger slugs for the same power usage. It’s not available on the market. You won’t find a better assault rifle.”

“I’ll take it. What else have you got?”

“The HMW line has prototypes in a lot of different weapon classes. Pistols, shotguns, sniper rifles…”

Shepard glanced at Garrus, who was not able to restrain a low trill of envy. He’d seen the specs of the HMWASR. It wasn’t information he was _supposed_ to have access to, but he’d managed to obtain it after a night of a little too much drinking with Etan Velka, a fellow marksman he’d served with during his tour with the Hierarchy who’d paid him a visit the last time he’d been on the Citadel.

“I want one of everything,” Shepard replied.

Garrus nearly choked. He leaned towards Shepard, keeping his voice low. “Have you seen what those weapons cost?”

Shepard raised his eyebrow. “Have you seen how many credits we’ve accumulated just cataloguing minerals and retrieving salvage?” He turned his attention back to the requisitions officer. “Let’s talk armor.”

The turian on the other side of the desk flicked a mandible, and pushed a datapad towards him. “I believe this is going to be along the lines of what you’re looking for. Made by Kassa Fabrications. Energized plating redirects energy from incoming projectiles rather than negating the slug like standard shielding. Sacrifices shield strength, but the armor plating stops whatever the shields can’t bleed off. Wearing this hardsuit is a lot like wearing a tank.”

Shepard glanced over the specs, then flashed a grin at Garrus. “And it even comes in black and red. Put it on the list.”

“Absolutely, Commander.”

“I also need something with top of the line shielding. Resistance to ECM and biotic attacks would be helpful. What have you got?”

“Armax Arsenal, Predator line. The strongest shield emitters on the market or off of it, programmed for random frequency oscillation to provide better protection from ECM attacks. Improved ablative coating, a miniframe computer with redundant life support system and higher threat detection capabilities, not to mention micro mass effect generators that can withstand biotic attacks and provide extra protection against a physical assault.”

Shepard mulled over the datapad, an almost fiendish look of joy in his eyes. “Alenko is going to lose his shit when he sees the specs on this. Speaking of which, what kind of amps do you have available? Serrice Council amps, specifically.”

Before the requisitions officer could reply Shepard’s omnitool chirped. He looked down in mild annoyance, but his expression smoothed quickly, becoming keen and sharp in the space of an eye blink. “It’s Anderson,” he said grimly. He glanced hastily back at the requisitions officer. “Dammit, I still have four crew members to outfit.” He pulled out his omnitool. “You know what? I’m transferring you their contact information. Give them access to the full catalogue and tell them to pick out gear. No prices. That’s for me to worry about. Get them whatever they want and my requisitions officer will arrange for credit transfer and delivery.” Shepard shot a glance at Garrus. “That means you, too, Vakarian. Get something shiny.”

Garrus coughed. “They make the Colossus for turians, don’t they?”

“There is a turian model, yes,” the officer replied. He looked a little dazed. Garrus started mentally calculating the commission he was about to earn and thought he’d be pretty dazed, too.

“Then make it two.”

Shepard nodded in satisfaction. “If my requisitions officer has a stroke, my XO will handle any signatures. Got it?”

“Absolutely…sir.”

“Great. Garrus, come on.” He rubbed his hands together. “I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

Garrus’ mandibles flared with anticipation. “I’m right behind you.”

~

Flux casino was no different than it had been when Shepard had last set foot in here, just hours after becoming a Spectre. The music was still too loud, with so much bass he could feel it in his chest, yet it still got drowned out by the constant _ching_ of the Quasar terminals above the dance floor. Overcrowded, fluorescent lights cast skeins of neon color on the dancing patrons, nearly all of whom moved their hips and waved their arms in such an insular fashion they might have been the only beings left in the galaxy.

Isolation even among a crowd of people was something Shepard remembered quite well.

He rolled his shoulder and stretched his neck before taking in a breath and striding towards his old Captain, who waited for them at a table swirling a glass of something that was probably scotch, glancing around with uncharacteristic discomfort. Anderson nodded a greeting as Shepard slid into the seat across from him. Garrus followed suit, eyes casually scanning the room. _Identifying sightlines and exits_ , Shepard thought to himself with a flash of pride.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

The captain tapped a finger against his glass, then raised it up and took a healthy sip. When a red-headed waitress approached to take Shepard’s order, he waved her off.

“I’m going to get you into the Terminus systems,” Anderson said once she was gone.

Shepard shifted in his seat. “How? The only ship that can get me there undetected is grounded. Without that stealth drive I won’t even make Ilos’ orbit.”

Anderson grimaced, running his tongue over his teeth. “That’s why you need the _Normandy_.”

Shepard managed to conceal his surprise, placing his elbows on the table and leaning forward with a quick glance around them. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“Citadel Control locked out the _Normandy’s_ systems, but Ambassador Udina gave the order,” the captain replied. “If I can hack into his account I can rescind it. So long as you’re ready when those docking clamps retract, you’ll be in the Terminus systems before anyone even realizes you’re gone.”

Shepard exhaled slowly. Beside him, Garrus flicked a mandible, but thankfully remained silent.

“If we steal the _Normandy_ …that leaves you holding the bag.”

Anderson gave him a long, hard look. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to get you back on that ship and off this station.”

The hair on the back of Shepard’s neck prickled. Beside him Garrus stirred, his hard-ingrained turian military discipline making it impossible to remain silent.

“You’re talking about treason,” he said, an urgent flange in his subvocals. 

Anderson steepled his fingers, then took another pull from his glass. “Small price to pay, wouldn’t you say?”

Shepard leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping against the armrest. “What’s your plan?”

“Udina has a meeting this afternoon with an elcor diplomat.” He paused, casting a quick glance at Shepard. “He has a bad habit of leaving an active terminal in his office.”

“You’re going to break into the Admiral’s office and use his computer?” Garrus said. “What if he _doesn’t_ leave it active?”

“Captain Anderson knows his way around encryption,” Shepard supplied, eyes never leaving Anderson’s face. The captain nodded.

Garrus exhaled. “It’s still risky.”

“We don’t have a lot of options,” Anderson replied.

Shepard rubbed his temple. “This plan assumes an entire crew of Alliance officers is going to go along with mutiny.”

“They know what’s at stake, Shepard.” The look Anderson gave him was one Shepard had been on the receiving end of many times before. “Do you remember what I asked you when you became a Spectre?”

_(Alenko and Williams. They would follow any order I gave them, wouldn’t you agree?)_

_(Of course.)_

_(But what would happen if you gave one that contradicted it?)_

Shepard cleared his throat. He could feel Garrus’ questioning gaze, but studiously avoided it. “Okay, then. So mutiny it is. Just tell me when.”

“Call your crew back to the ship. _Discreetly._ But be sure everyone who’s coming with you is there by 1400. You won’t get much warning, and you won’t have much time. Tell Joker to stand by.”

All three of them got to their feet. Anderson signaled to the waitress.

“Sir,” Shepard said, hesitating. “Thank you.”

Anderson nodded brusquely in response, then departed swiftly. Shepard watched him go, mentally trying to calculate how many times Anderson had stood up for him in the past, and how many more times he might do it in the future.

If they threw Anderson in a cell, one thing was for sure. Shepard wasn’t going to let him sit there.

“Ready to steal a ship?” Shepard asked under his breath. He got to his feet, dreading for half a beat that Garrus would not do the same. But the turian did, without pause, and followed him towards the casino’s entrance, though the weight of his stare at Shepard’s back nearly made him flinch.

“If you want off here, Garrus, I understand. I’m not forcing you to take part in this.”

“I’m not looking for a way out.”

“What, then?”

“Sir…what about Tali?”

Shepard halted mid-stride. Amid the chorus of uneven sound coursing through the casino both he and Garrus stood still and silent. After a long, interminable pause Shepard finally turned his head just enough so Garrus could hear him. “If we spring her from the medbay we could be doing irreparable harm.”

“So you’re leaving her behind.”

Now Shepard did flinch, subtle and slight but not enough that Garrus would miss it. “I’ve already condemned one of my crewmates to die. I’m not doing it again when I have a choice.”

Garrus digested this for a moment as Shepard resumed walking. “Understood, sir.”

“Round everyone up. Quietly. Get them back to the ship. I’ll handle the rest.”

~

 Joker swung his way through the CIC, taking note of the crew hovering around the galaxy map. Pressly. Felawa. Gladstone. Draven. No one was missing, that he could see. All busied about the holographic image of the _Normandy –_ projected in place of the familiar swirl of the Milky Way while the controls remained locked out - with furrowed brows, thin lips and darting eyes, all wearing the same expression of resolute disbelief.

They were stealing the _Normandy._ Mutiny. And as far as he could tell, no one had refused to go along with it. Everyone had been filing back on board as inconspicuously as possible for the last hour. Adams. Dr. Chakwas. Grenado. As Joker made his way to the CIC hallway he passed Dubyansky and Pakti fresh from the airlock. Both nodded smartly and offered a salute. A _salute_ , of all goddamn things.

None of them had turned Shepard down. Not a single one. The _Normandy_ was going to be on the run with all hands on deck. They were all risking not only their careers, but the likely possibility of spending quite a few years inside a cell for doing this. But it didn’t deter even Greico, a _mess_ sergeant for chrissakes. Because they believed in the mission. They believed in _Shepard_. A lone ship to chase down a madman with a geth army, and they were going to have to break every reg in the Alliance handbook just to give themselves _those_ odds.

The Council was fucking insane. A cell would be worth it if it at least meant they’d tried.     

He reached the pilot’s chair and settled himself into it with a grimace, stowing the crutches and then staring at his interface, still offline and unresponsive. A quick check of his chronometer told him that they had about twenty minutes before Anderson’s supposed date with destiny, when perhaps the fate of them all rested on whether or not their former captain could rescind the lockdown before getting shot.

Even Shepard’s superior officers were willing to take a hit for him. Shit.

Another figure slid into the chair next to him. Addison Chase. She didn’t look at him at first, just ran her fingers over the darkened interface out of habit, chewing her lip and tapping her foot against the deckplates.

“Chase,” Joker said finally. She glanced swiftly over at him, blonde hair bobbing along for the ride, and offered a nervous smile. Joker nodded at her. “Glad to see you.”

She exhaled a shaky breath. “It’s the right thing to do,” she replied.

“Still takes guts.”

“What…what do you need me to do?”

Joker skimmed his list of pre-flight checks, mentally crossing off the ones they could skip. If they were stealing the ship, piling on a few extra docking bay infractions sure as shit wouldn’t make much of a difference.

“As soon as we get the green light we have to act fast,” he replied. “We skip anything that isn’t absolutely essential. We’re going to be doing a lot of things at once. No coms traffic. Let Adams worry about the drive core and the heat sinks. As soon as we get control back Pressly will take care of our heading. No time to communicate with each other. Trust that everyone’s going to do their jobs.”

She nodded wordlessly.

“We’re also not going to have time to run any safety checks once the core comes back online. We just have to hope no one futzed with anything while we’ve been powered down.”

Another nod.

“Get the thrusters going as soon as you can, whatever it takes. You know how to adjust acceleration burn for the nebula, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said, voice faltering ever so slightly. 

“Good. While I get us clear of the Citadel you need to make those calculations and make them fast. As soon as we’re clear of the Ward arms we’re making a run for the relay. I need you to keep up. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” she said, more confident this time.

“We got this, Chase. Just have to work together.”

Joker heard the clatter of boots on the deckplates. Thought it was Shepard, turned around instead to find Alenko. Joker tried to conceal his mild surprise. The lieutenant’s usual even-tempered expression had been replaced by something iron and hard, a sharp reminder that Alenko was not just some idealistic pretty face, but a well-trained marine who wouldn’t flinch regardless of what you threw at him.

“Everything ready up here?”

“Just waiting for the green light,” Joker replied. He shifted a little in his chair, angling so he could get a better look at the lieutenant. “Where’s Shepard?”

“On his way.”

Alenko met his gaze, the corner of his eye twitching.  “What, you didn’t think I’d come?”

“Not that. Well, I mean, you are a little attached to the rule book. We’re about to break a pretty big rule. In rather spectacular fashion.”

Alenko’s gaze darkened. “The mission comes first.”

Shepard chose that moment to come through the airlock, striding down the hallway to stand beside Alenko. The two exchanged nods.

“We’re ready up here, Commander,” Joker said.

“Come on, Anderson,” Alenko murmured under his breath.

Joker checked his chronometer again. Three minutes.

The four of them stared at the flight console. Joker rubbed his fingers idly together, shooting the occasional glance at Shepard, whose expression remained resolute.

 _Jesus, Shepard. I really hope you know what you’re doing_.

A light flashed on his interface.

_Wait for it…_

The entire console lit up. Drive core. Navigations. Propulsions. The ship was his again.  

“Get us out of here, Joker,” Shepard ordered.

“Aye aye, Commander.”

His fingers flashed over the console as the docking clamps disengaged. _Bless you, Anderson. I’d kiss you on the mouth if I could._

“Maneuvering thrusters set,” Chase announced, voice terse.

Joker backed the ship out of the docking bay. Without an authorized departure vector he’d have to dodge traffic. It wouldn’t take control long to notice they had a rouge departure. _Adams, hope you’ve got that drive core up and singing_.

“Joker?” Shepard asked.

“We’re about to find out just how fast I can calculate a relay jump on the fly, Commander.”

The Ward arms glided past them outside the shutters. Joker adjusted course to avoid two incoming volus freighters. The moment they were clear he initiated the acceleration burn, praying Adams had had enough time to run the numbers.

The ship surged. Joker let out a whoop. “That’s my girl! We’re off and running, Commander, see if those assholes can catch us now!”

Shepard grinned. “Pressly, have you got a course laid out for Ilos?”

_“Working as fast as I can, sir. I’ll have it by the time we reach the relay.”_

Shepard put a hand on Joker’s shoulder. “Saren’s out there somewhere. Let’s get that sonofabitch.”


	49. Amor

Garrus shut the weapons’ crate with an audible click that made both Dubyansky and Pakti jump. The entire ship was wound tighter than a turian general. One hour removed from stealing the  _Normandy_ the crew’s adrenaline had faded into a thick, heavy blanket of unease that permeated the ship from bow to stern.

In what was proving to be a vain attempt to relieve some of the tension, Garrus had rounded up a few of the crew and herded them to the shuttle bay. Some he put to work running diagnostic and maintenance checks on the Mako. Dubyansky and Pakti got drafted to help sort through the mountain of gear Shepard had purchased that wasn’t already being programed and calibrated by their new owners. It wouldn’t normally be their job, but the requisitions officer currently had his hands full with all of the other supplies that had been brought on board at the Citadel, and, well. They were down a gunnery chief.

The problem was that instead of conversing and blowing off steam like Garrus had intended, they instead picked through the crates in total silence. Which just made things _worse._

“Dubyanski.”

The taller of the pair looked up with a start.

_Damn. I thought Dubyanski was the other one._

Garrus marveled at how two human beings who looked so completely different from one another, even to a turian, could still somehow seem so alike. One was at least a full head taller than the other, one had a fringe when the other did not, one had lean, sharp features like a turian while the other looked more like a boulder with eyes. They even _sounded_ different. Each spoke with a radically different accent that gave his translator fits.

Yet Garrus, and everyone else on the ship for that matter, sometimes had trouble telling them apart. Not that it _really_ mattered, since by this point they both responded to each other’s names.

“Here,” Garrus said, nudging the crate at his feet. “Tackle this one next. There’s a few mods in there I need to test before we get to Ilos.”

“Yes, sir.”

Garrus craned his head, looking for signs of movement behind the Mako.

“Wrex,” he called out.

The surly krogan’s crest appeared.

Garrus pointed. “I think this giant set of krogan armor from Kassa is probably for you.”

An interested growl issued from Wrex’ throat. He stalked to the crate Garrus indicated and began to dig around at its contents.

No one knew what Shepard had said to the giant krogan before the docking clamps lifted. In the minutes before Anderson sprung them loose, Shepard had kicked everyone out of the cargo bay. Garrus hadn’t _heard_ shouting. Shepard wasn’t a bloody pulp when he emerged, and Wrex hadn’t rearranged the Mako’s hull.

Garrus knew because he’d _checked_.

Whatever bad blood that had festered on Virmire had presumably been dealt with, and neither Shepard nor Wrex seemed inclined to talk about it. Garrus knew better than to ask. He also wasn’t going to admit that he was glad the surly krogan remained on board. 

“There’s a fancy shotgun you might appreciate,” Garrus informed him. “Experimental design. Looks nasty. Right up your alley.”

“Saren is one dead turian,” the krogan declared.

Dubyansky and Pakti exchanged uneasy glances.

“Sir,” Pakti started.

“Pretty sure you don’t have to ‘sir’ me, Serviceman,” Garrus interrupted. “I’m not technically part of your chain of command, remember?”

Pakti shifted his feet. Dubyanski cleared his throat.

“Sir, does anything like this ever happen on a turian ship?”

 _They even finish each other’s questions._ Garrus’ mandibles quivered. “You mean mutiny?”

Both of them flinched.

He drew in a deep breath. “You won’t find it much. We’re so fatalistically attached to our meritocracy that violating the order of a superior is a pretty alien concept, to be honest.” A hum of bitterness ran through his subvocals. “We’ll follow a bad order right over the edge of a cliff most of the time. Chain of command is everything.”

Pakti stared down at the scram rail in his hands. Dubyansky fiddled idly with a new combat scanner. Behind them Wrex grunted.

“You give a hell of a pep talk, turian.”

A protesting thrum sounded through Garrus’ subvocals.

The krogan ignored him, leveling his beady red gaze on the two humans. “Shepard is your commander. He’s going to lead you into one of the greatest battles of all time. Our enemies stand no chance against us. The Council and your Alliance talking heads would have you sit idle while he wants to drag you to glory. This is not a question of loyalty or command. This is a choice between cowards or warriors. Which are you?”

The two exchanged glances, then straightened their shoulders. Garrus flicked a mandible. _Well I’ll be damned. A motivational speech from a krogan._

“Ok.” 

“Yeah.”

“Carry on, you two,” Garrus said.

Wrex grunted as they resumed their work. Garrus picked up his new sniper rifle, _Spirits I still can’t believe I’m holding a gun like this,_ and began syncing the targeting software to his visor.

“Thanks,” he said when the humans were out of earshot.

“Idiot,” Wrex muttered in reply. 

Garrus hummed. He could think of a time not so long ago when the krogan’s lack of tact would have wormed its way right under his plates. Now he actually found it a little comforting.

“Care for some target practice? A little not-so-friendly competition, perhaps?”

“You’re on.”

~

A small spark of static leapt from Liara’s fingers as she probed the new Serrice Council amp Alenko had fitted into the port on the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

He waved a hand. “Used to it.”

Shepard smirked from his seat across from them in the mess. Between the three of them the table was smothered with hardsuit pieces, guns, and various mods. They’d been working for nearly three hours, and Liara’s mind felt like squashed fruit.

She double checked the results of the scan running on her omnitool. “It looks like the neural patterns are syncing better now. How does it feel?”

Alenko flexed one arm, igniting a blue corona that briefly shifted the currents of the room, making her skin tingle.

“Better. Thanks. You know your way around an amp. I mean, even for an asari.”

Liara smiled. “My mother insisted I know every last microcircuit and how to manipulate it. You do not want to know how many I have dissected over the years.”

“Your mother was a smart woman.”

Liara’s hands hovered for a moment. She felt Shepard’s gaze shift to her.

“Thank you.”

She did not look up, and Shepard did not look away.

After a few more adjustments to Alenko’s amp she nodded in satisfaction and straightened. When she risked glancing in Shepard’s direction he’d turned his attention back to his hardsuit.

“There. The Savants are a little tricky to calibrate sometimes,” she said. “They are unusually sensitive compared to other models.”

“With good reason,” Alenko mused, rubbing his fingers together and watching a blue flare erupt. “Wish I had a chance to test this in the field before our lives depend on it, but with the power differentials between it and my Polaris? Can’t afford not to use it.”

Liara moved around him and sat down in her seat, picking up the pistol in front of her. Shepard had added a kinetic stabilizer upgrade to her Stiletto. He’d offered her a Spectre-grade pistol, but after a few practice rounds decided to stick with what she’d been using. A better caliber gun wouldn’t matter much if she didn’t hit the target.  

“I do not think it will take long to adjust,” she told Alenko. “Your implant will not allow you to spike output to dangerous levels. But I would take an extra ration pack with you into the field, to compensate for any abnormal exertion.”

“Good idea.” He rubbed his neck with absent fingers, looking at the pieces of his new hardsuit strewn across the table but not really seeing them. Shepard watched him for a moment, expression opaque, but Liara could glimpse some of the gears turning behind the mask. There was little about his crew that Shepard couldn’t decipher. It was a matter of knowing when to observe and when to prod. And when it came to Alenko, Shepard never had to do much of either.

“Everything all right, LT?”

Alenko looked up, startled, face flushing slightly with embarrassment. “Yeah. Just caught thinking too much. Sorry.”

Shepard’s gaze didn’t waver. When he asked his question, Liara was fairly certain he already knew the answer.   

“Any second thoughts?”

“No,” Alenko said quickly. “If we don’t do this…well. Saren can’t win. Period. And if it’s up to us, we’re going to stop him.” He cocked a half smile. “But you know me.”

“Mutiny is a little hard to stomach,” Shepard supplied.

“Yeah,” Alenko said with an exhale. “Just goes against everything we’ve been trained for. But it’s all right. I’m all right. No regrets. We’re going to see this through, Shepard. Whatever the consequences.”

Something – maybe even relief – softened in Shepard’s countenance. 

The elevator arrived at the crew deck, and moments later the young woman from engineering with the brightly colord hair appeared. Tali’s friend, Liara remembered, and for a moment her heart twisted.

At the sight of them the engineer froze, eyes darting to the side as she considered whether or not to proceed.

“Grenado,” Shepard welcomed. “Sorry. We’ve made a mess of the table.”

“No problem, sir. I just wanted a cup of tea. I won’t be in the way.”

Alenko cleared a spot for her. “Nah, we’re almost done. Join us.”

The crease in his brow deepened as Grenado slunk towards the table, and his fingers drummed absently on the tabletop.

“Alenko,” he said suddenly. “Got that deck of cards lying around somewhere?”

The lieutenant looked over at him in surprise. “Yeah, in my locker.”

Shepard glanced around. “Why don’t you grab it?”

“ _Now?”_

Shepard gestured to the table. “We’ve been over the gear three times. I’m pretty sure Garrus and Wrex are doing the same in the cargo hold. We don’t hit the Mu relay until morning. I don’t know about you but I’m a little too wired to sleep just yet. Time to blow off a little steam.”

Alenko shrugged and got up to go retrieve the cards. Shepard patted the chair next to him. “Sit down, Grenado. I won’t let Alenko take you to the cleaners.”

The young woman sat down without a word, eyes wide. She hadn’t gotten her tea yet, but now looked too nervous to do so. Liara rose, went to the galley, and started heating some water. There were three boxes of tea stowed in one of the cabinets. She selected one that smelled like lavender, and dropped a teabag into two mugs.

She didn’t know how any of them were going to settle down enough to play a game, but Shepard knew things about soldiers that she did not.  He was already at work clearing the table, with Grenado’s help. When the tea was ready Liara poured the water and handed Grenado a mug, keeping the second for herself.

“Thank you!” Grenado said as Liara took a seat. Again, she felt Shepard’s gaze.

Alenko returned to the table with a set of round, multicolored chips and a deck of cards. He took a seat, proceeding to fan the deck between his thumbs.

“Liara?” Shepard asked, eyebrows raised in a question.

“I—I do not know how to play.”

“I’ll teach you.” He abandoned his seat and came to Liara’s left, dragging a chair close enough that his leg brushed hers once he sat down. He could have moved away once he got situated.

He didn’t.

Neither did she.

A moment later Dr. Chakwas poked her head out of the medbay. When her eyes settled on the table she made a satisfactory sound in her throat.

“About bloody time. Deal me in.”

Shepard hid a smile. Grenado looked back and forth between her superior officers still in mild shock.

“Joker,” Shepard said into his comm. “Your shift ended twenty minutes ago. Why are you still at the helm?”

“ _Because Ilos, sir. Did you forget Ilos?”_

“Not for another seven hours,” Shepard replied. “Pretty sure you aren’t planning to fly the ship all night, because if you take us in without having slept I’m getting a new helmsman.”

Liara heard grumbling on Joker’s end.

“If you hurry, Kaidan’ll deal you in this hand.”

“… _be right there.”_

Alenko chuckled.

Shepard leaned in close to her as Alenko dealt, explaining things like suits, card values and betting. When the game began he pointed to her cards, advising her when to call, when to raise. But the only thing she could concentrate on was the warmth of his breath against her neck. It wasn’t an accident how close he was.

Nothing Shepard ever did was accidental.

_The mission comes first._

Maybe sometimes it didn’t.

Shepard pointed to a card in her hand. _Queen of spades_ , or something like that. She didn’t care.

Dr. Chakwas won the hand. Liara didn’t know why or how, but it didn’t seem to matter. Other members of the crew had begun to drift in throughout the game. Garrus appeared with Adams and Wrex. Joker joined them, dragging Pressly in his wake. By the time they started the second hand, there almost weren’t enough chairs.

“This is a stupid game,” Wrex declared when Alenko tried to explain a bluff.

“It’s subtle,” Alenko replied. “Stealth instead of a shotgun.”

Wrex narrowed his eyes. “This is a stupid game.”

“We could always try poker with shotguns,” Garrus suggested.

“ _That_ would be less stupid.”

“No holes in the ship,” Pressly said, never looking up from his cards. “House rules.”    

“What is this one?” Liara asked, pointing to a card with an ornate looking face on it marked with a J and the shape of a diamond.

“It’s a Jack,” Shepard replied, voice low. He reached over and touched another of the cards in her hand. “And here’s another one. Jack of clubs. You’ve got one pair. Not bad.”

She smiled. It had nothing to do with the cards.

Grenado gained a little confidence once Adams arrived at the table. She tossed a chip into the center and declared her bet, to which Joker winced and Pressly tapped his chin with a finger.

“Joker,” Alenko said with a shake of his head. “Your poker face is _terrible.”_

“How do you know I’m not just throwing you off my scent? I could be sitting on a flush. Or _better._ ”

The lieutenant laughed. 

Within an hour even Wrex seemed to be enjoying himself. Especially after he won a hand – on a bluff.

“Eat it, human,” he growled, taking a pile of chips from Alenko.

Liara leaned over to Shepard as laughter erupted around the table. “I thought you said he was quite skilled at this game.”

Shepard smiled. “He is. But he also knows when everyone just needs to…relax.”

“He’s losing on _purpose_?”

“Not…on purpose. He just left his A game at home.”

Liara nodded, not entirely sure she understood, but still content with his answer.

“Mr. Moreau, I believe we’re lucky your skill at the helm is rather better than your skill at poker,” Dr. Chakwas commented.

“Thank you.”

She raised a silver eyebrow. He shrugged.

“Considering I’m the _best_ pilot in the fleet, it’s understandable my poker prowess is closer to that of mere mortals.”

Alenko made a noise in his throat. Pressly sniggered.

Shepard smiled, then straightened a little in his chair. “Personally I’d rather have the pilot than the poker player. We’re going to need you tomorrow.”

A subdued quiet fell over them. Shepard rested his arms on the table. His casual poise had shifted effortlessly from friend back to commander, and the entire room felt it. Ilos, for a brief time pushed to the back of their minds, came raging back to the forefront.

“I know what you’ve all sacrificed to be here,” he told them. “You’ve put your careers on the line. Maybe your lives. I don’t take that sacrifice for granted.”

Several of them stirred. Garrus’ mandibles quivered. Alenko straightened in his seat, eyes never leaving his CO’s face. Pressly set his jaw. Joker’s fingers flexed in his lap. At the far end of the table Wrex dipped his large head, lip curling ever so slightly. Grenado looked from face to face, eyes wide, but Liara watched as very slowly her hunched shoulders raised, spine unfurled, chin lowered. By the time her gaze settled back on Shepard, she wasn’t the same woman who had sat down at the table, too nervous to get her own tea.

“It hasn’t been an easy road for any of us,” Shepard went on. “I think we all know who isn’t here with us tonight. Ashley Williams gave her life so we could destroy that base on Virmire. Tali'Zorah nar Rayya had to stay behind on the Citadel. And we’ll never miss them more than we will tomorrow.”

Shepard focused on each one of them in turn, expression stoic but blue eyes bright with staunch conviction.

“Captain Anderson told me upon transferring command that I had the best ship with the best crew. He was right. On all counts. All of you are the reason we’ve gotten this far. The reason we’ll see this through. We’re going to stop Saren, whatever it takes. The galaxy is counting on us, even if they don't know it. We can’t let them down. We _won’t_ let them down. And whatever happens, I’m damn proud to have served with each you.”

Murmurs of agreement echoed around the table.

“Sir,” Garrus spoke up. “If I may say, there’s no one I would rather follow through that relay.”

Pressly got up from his seat. He offered no words. Just a salute. One by one, everyone present did the same. Even Wrex dipped his head and bared his crest in a krogan show of respect.  

 _I’m not who you think I am_ , he’d tried to tell her.

 _No, Shepard_ , she thought. _You’re more._

~

Shepard rubbed the bridge of his nose and leaned back in his chair. Despite his words to the crew, alone in his quarters it was a lot easier to think about the odds, and just how high the deck was stacked against them.

In the end they were headed to a destination they knew nothing about, tasked with stopping something they didn’t yet know how to stop. Even without a plan, Shepard would find a way to put a bullet in Saren’s skull. The problem was he had no idea if that would be enough.

One bullet wouldn’t avert the genocide replaying over and over inside his skull. Assuming a bullet would even be enough to get the job done, considering how little of the real Saren remained.

So he would lead a team into the unknown with the hopes of accomplishing the unknown, to either win or die trying.

No pressure.

And yet it wasn’t why he couldn’t sleep.

With a sigh he let the datapad in his hand drop to the desk with a clatter and rubbed his eyes.

This wasn’t about Liara. It was about the mission. It was always about the mission. Always had been. That was the _problem_. But for a few moments in the docking bay…it had been about something else.      

He’d been surprised at how…much that meant.

At the sound of his door chime he looked up in mild surprise. “Enter.”

When the doors slid open his heart skipped a beat. Liara stood on the other side, expression solemn, hands clasped in front of her.

“May I come in?”

He got to his feet, one hand gripping the back of his chair. “Of course.”

She stepped inside, allowing the doors to swish shut behind her. “Shepard…” she started, kneading her fingers. “About what happened in the docking bay.”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”

She tilted her chin. “And I should not have let you stop.”

His hand tightened against the chair back, whatever words he wanted to say drying up in his throat.

Liara drew in a deep breath, posture reforming around it. “We do not know what is going to happen once we reach Ilos. I have every faith that we will succeed, but I find myself…unwilling to take the chance that we will not.”

Shepard swallowed. “Liara, I think you know how I feel. But I don’t want to presume anything. I’m not asking for anything.” His fingers curled into the chair. “You’re too important to me.”

“And you think, that because of what we’ve shared, I might not feel the same?”

The noise that issued from his throat sounded bitter, laced with irony. He dropped his gaze. “I think I’m afraid that you will.”

When she didn’t answer he glanced back up, found her keen, unwavering gaze studying him carefully.

He swallowed. “Look, I—”

It didn’t register that she’d started moving until she reached him, effectively silencing whatever he’d hoped to say with the crush of her mouth, an unexpected salvo that caught him with shields down.

This wasn’t the docking bay. There was no hesitation. It wasn’t timid. Hopeful. It was reckless, urgent, an order effectively signed, to be executed at all costs. And the costs were high. They always were. Shepard was used to that.

But he wasn’t used to this.

Before his brain could get a chance to catch up to his body he locked her to him, chasing away the remaining empty space and kissing her back like his life depended on it.

In some ways, it did.

Her hands linked behind his neck, fingers brushing its nape with a touch both cool and electric that pooled heat at the base of his spine. When he leaned in deeper she pressed back with such force he had to brace himself on his heel to keep his balance. It didn’t stop them. It didn’t even slow them down.

For two people who had danced around each other all this time with such grace, the choreography now turned decidedly muddled. There was no cadence, no familiar rhythm to them – not yet, not this soon. Right now they were groping along in the dark, no guide and no destination but each other, and in too much of a hurry to care if they got lost along the way. 

Next to her slender, elegant shape he was clumsy and inept, the parts of him that so effortlessly wielded a weapon suddenly fumbling and unsure when it came to something that mattered. He slid a hand up the length of her spine, unable to suppress a groan when her hips pressed against his pelvis. Her breath caught when she discovered the inevitable arousal there. 

He pulled abruptly back, heart thumping in his ears, adrenaline racing with the same tenor it did when he found himself exposed on the battlefield.

How much…exactly…did she _know_ about…?

“Liara,” he said when he’d caught his breath. “Um. Before we let this get…further.”  He swallowed, almost wishing for the geth to invade his quarters to spare him what was surely impending humiliation.

To his surprise, Liara smirked, eyes drifting below the cut of his waist and lingering until a hot flush built up in his groin and washed through his limbs.

“Shepard, I am aware that human anatomy is different than asari.”

She dropped one hand, fingers gliding along the juncture of his pelvis and inner thigh. Shepard jumped, air vacating his lungs. The corner of her lips turned up in an impish smile that was so new, so…unexpected it caught him completely off guard.

“I’m actually…looking forward to the experience.”

“Okay,” he said when he found his voice again. “Then here’s my next idiot question. Because of our…um, differences. How exactly does this…work? I mean, assuming that’s what you want. If it’s not that’s _fine_ , I just. If I’m reading this wrong I need to know now or I’m going to make the biggest mistake of my life.”

Her smile grew fuller, eyes dancing with amusement but mired in warmth. “I do not believe you’re reading anything wrong.”

“Thank God,” he said with an exhale.

She laughed, the sound transforming her facial architecture, for a moment giving him a glimpse of what they might be like without Saren. Without Noveria. Without Ilos.

“The physical pleasure itself is not so different,” she said, errant hand finding its way back to his neck. He couldn’t help but wish she’d left it where it was. “Just…the means of obtaining it. We use the same control over our nervous system that enables our biotics to merge with a partner. We literally _feel_ through each other. Because we are monogendered we do not require insemination to reproduce, therefore penetrative copulation is unnecessary. We merely adopt genetic material through the meld to procreate, and therefore—” She stopped, smile dissolving into wide-eyed mortification. “I am so sorry. Goddess, if there was anything _less_ romantic I could have said I do not know what it could be. Shepard, I—”

Now it was his turn to laugh, nervousness dissipating. He leaned in to kiss her once more, this time gentle and unhurried. “Ever the scientist,” he murmured, lips straying to the line of her jaw before dropping to her throat. The soft sigh that escaped her sent a thrill through him.

“Show me what to do,” he whispered.

She placed a hand flat against his chest, pushing him backwards towards the bed.

“First,” she said, the tilt of her chin and light in her eyes informing him that he would be taking point on this mission, “I think we need to investigate a few of these anatomical differences you’re so worried about.”

“Human men do have a rather startling preoccupation with them,” he said solemnly.

Her smirk returned, canny and clever, carrying a poise utterly divergent from her usual demeanor. For the first time, he wondered if he wasn’t seeing the _real_ Liara. Not the scientist. Not the warrior framed in a halo of blue fire.

Just _Liara._

He found the edge of the bed with his heel, felt for the mattress with his hand, unable – unwilling – to tear his gaze away. As he sat down she knelt in front of him, hands coasting up the length of his sides, tugging at his shirt until she’d exposed his skin. He reached behind him to pull it over his head, chin momentarily getting caught on the collar. The cloth muffled her laughter, and when he finally shed himself of the offending garment, with it went a weight even heavier than the one he carried when wearing a hardsuit.

No one had ever looked at him the way Liara looked at him now.

He shifted on the bed, suddenly acutely aware of every ding, every dent. Shepard’s skin was anything but smooth, anything but whole, each scar a confession, some he’d buried, some that still burned.

“I’m, um. I’m a little beat up.”

Her fingers splayed reverently along the musculature of his abs, eyes drifting over every peak and valley with careful studiousness.

She shook her head. “No, Shepard. You’re you.”

At her tender but persistent insistence, he shucked off the remainder of his clothing, kicking his boots aside and tugging off his socks with as much dignity as he could muster. Then, not to be outdone, he reached around her neck and fumbled for a zipper, clasp, whatever fastener he could find. With a demure smile she rose to her full height, taking her time and shrugging out of her uniform one shoulder at a time as he watched with baited breath to see what secrets she had concealed beneath.

He wasn’t disappointed.

Her cerulean skin changed its shade across the canvas of her body, lighter across her breasts and darker across her thighs, a tapestry of flesh that changed its hues with the light. Tentatively his hands came to rest on her hips, guiding her back towards him, hoping for the opportunity to do some curious roaming of his own.

But Liara had other ideas.    

With one hand she pushed him down onto the bed, then bent low over top of him to continue her slow, measured exploration. He watched, scarcely daring to breathe, unused to being exposed to such meticulous perlustration and finding it strangely exhilarating.

 Her lips traced the dip of his belly button, curving into a smile when the flesh proved more sensitive than she expected. The warm gust of her breath raised goosebumps along his stomach. At the sight of them her fingers hovered in surprise, then ghosted across the newly unevened surface with unconcealed relish.

“I did that,” she said, wonder in her voice.

“Yeah,” he corner of his mouth quirking in a crooked smile. “Along with a few other, uh. Notable reactions.”

One flick of her eyes told him she’d noticed.

She just hadn’t gotten there yet.

Liara apparently didn’t like to be rushed. 

When she found the tract of hair meandering south of his waist she paused, gently swirling her fingers through it, marveling at the way his body jumped, the way his breath hitched, such small electric touches eroding away at his control until it swayed precariously along the edge of a knife, hers to do with as she pleased.

Another piece of the puzzle. But just one. One wasn’t enough. She wanted them all, no matter how small.

Liara was thorough.

Every inch of him intrigued her, and he denied her nothing as she traversed his unfamiliar topography, charting her own maps and discovering each new artifact with unfettered joy, as though each finding unearthed a new trove of stories, many of which he’d long forgotten even belonged to him.

She found a scar near his hip, one earned from a piece of shrapnel on Elysium.

One on his forearm, where a varren on Torfan had chewed through the ablation of his hardsuit and bit him down to the bone.

Another near his collarbone, the remnant of a burn, to which he blushed and stammered something about boiling water gone wrong in the galley.

Her laughter rang like bells. “You know there are dermal regenerators for those kinds of things.”

“Yeah, but then I’d have to explain _why_ ,” he protested.

She graced it with her fingers, passed her lips over each aggregation of repaired skin, slow, steady, measured, exposing it, exposing him, turning the things he sought to hide into vital fragments of a greater whole, an utterly unfamiliar shape for which he had no blueprints.    

Her hands pressed into the mattress on either side of him as she drew herself up to the level of his chest. He traced the lean muscle of her arms, gaze never leaving her face when she reached the one mark she already had context for – the knot of misshapen flesh across his sternum, damaged skin stretched over damaged bone, an ever present reminder of something he’d spent years trying to evade and destroy.

She probed it gently with her fingers before tracing its contours with her lips, leaving no part untouched, no part unloved. As she did one hand drifted low, trailing back down over previously explored terrain until it sought out his arousal and gave it slow, careful consideration. He closed his eyes, tremble running through his body, arching his back and surrendering without resistance – utterly vulnerable, utterly _human_ , and strangely content to be both.

She gave him one more languid stroke, eliciting a sound from his throat he didn’t know how to identify. But it didn’t matter, because somehow or another she did, as though now that she’d given him such a thorough inspection she understood the machinations of his own body better than he did, tested its mettle and learned where it was strong and where it was brittle, where it would bend and where it would break.

His flank was exposed and she had all the artillery, and what’s more he’d given it to her readily, trusting her to protect him.

“Don’t stop,” he gasped.

Her breath washed against his ear. “We’re just getting started.”

Breath hitching, he circled his arms over her back, pulling her down like gravity snaring a celestial body, leaving tracks of light across the sky as she descended to earth. Her breath caught behind her teeth, the weight of her body against his ratcheting up his own internal pressure until it skirted the borders of pain and blurred the two sensations into something potent, biting and raw.

He planted desperate kisses along the top of her head, her temple, her jaw, until he found her lips and turned some of her own ammunition right back against her. His legs hooked around her calves, and with a twist of his hips he rolled her on her back.

She wasn’t the _only_ one who could do this.

But even now she hadn’t stopped her careful navigation, fingers skating across the sinews of his shoulders as he delved along the swell of her chest, the slim but firm muscle of her back, the flat plane of her stomach and how it shivered against his lips.

“I still feel like I’m having all the fun,” he mumbled into her collarbone. “Not fair. What is it that makes Dr. T’Soni squirm?”

“Mmmm.”

She snatched one of his roving hands and guided it up the back of her neck, pressing his fingers against the soft juncture of skin where her crest met the nape. Her back arched, lithe and luminous, backlit by subtle flicks of biotic energy, a moan falling from her lips.

Shepard explored the sensitive spot to its fullest, fingers, tongue and light nips of his teeth until the air around them crackled with life, blue fire limming her curves and lighting her up like a naked star.

A dizzying sensation of weightlessness took over, and suddenly he once again found himself pinned beneath her.  

“Think you’re clever, Commander?” she purred.

“Well…not when you say it that way.”

She lowered her head until her lips brushed against his ear. “Would you like to know what that feels like?”

His affirmation came in the form of a groan – any words he might have formed stuck behind the inarticulate sounds building in his throat. The relentless slide and slither of her biotic halo and hurried skew of her fingers catapulted his body towards its fever pitch.

Liara enveloped him, coils of dark energy generating a warm buzz that pervaded his skin and roamed beneath its surface. Subtle cants of shifting gravity tugged against his equilibrium, like a slowly building static charge yearning for an outlet.  

“That’s you,” he said with a gasp. “Liara, I _feel_ you!”

The hum of her corona intensified, the small shifts deepening, alternately weighing him down and sending him into freefall.  He sucked in a breath, clutching her tighter, as though she were a tether anchoring him to atmosphere. It was like having a sixth sense awaken for the first time – the first sound in a silent world, the first breach of color and shape in a formless night.

Gravity – reformed, remade, all according to her desires.

“Is this what it feels like?” he breathed. “Is this what dark energy feels like?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“It’s… _amazing_.”

Fluctuations of mass, inversions of density – through Liara the space around them became a living breathing thing, a hidden fractal dimension heretofore unimagined.  

She pressed a kiss against his lips. Her shiver ran through him. Another oscillation. Another connection. 

“Do you trust me?”

He nodded, wordless, and once more she guided his hand to the sensitive fold behind her neck. This time when she writhed Shepard cried out, the sudden rush of sensation like a shock of lightning to his veins. Heat and arousal dawned from a completely unexpected source, a part of his body he thought he knew coming to life in ways his mind didn’t quite know how to reconcile.

“Like that?” she asked, and he didn’t see her smile. He felt it.

Shepard voiced his approval with a supple strum of his fingers, body arcing in tune with hers as another vibration of pleasure echoed between them. With each caress he fine-tuned their instrument, perpetuating the feedback loop until he couldn’t distinguish between what was real and what was the echo.

When her hand reached low, searching for his own erogenous zone, a fiendish smile came over her face.

“Let’s see what the fuss is all about.”

Her fingers danced across his length, feather touches that settled into measured, rhythmic strokes. He held her hips as she jerked, eyes wide, pupils dark, his own euphoria mirrored in hers. The effect was akin to lighting a fuse under his skin.

“Shepard,” she gasped. “ _Shepard_.”

Liara slammed her body against him, sensing his urge without fully understanding the context, none of it diminishing her pleasure.

It was too much.

Shepard went over the edge first, dragging Liara with him, melded together by electrical impulses, synapses and neurons working in tandem. The subsequent eruption of nerve endings hit him like an overamped grenade.

It took a lot of effort to remember how to breathe.

Echoing coruscations reverberated through them. Slowly they became fainter and more distant until his sense of Liara retreated. All that remained was the feel of her skin against his, the warmth of her breath against his neck.  

He clutched Liara tighter. She wrapped her arms around him, face buried in the crook of his shoulder, body shuddering.

Shepard tried to speak, managing only an incoherent tangle of syllables as his heart rate retreated from the stratosphere.  For a few minutes he laid limp, eyes closed. When at last he felt a little more control over his own faculties, he opened his eyes to find Liara propped on her elbows, peering anxiously down at him. Her skin was skin radiant under a sheen of sweat.

“Was it…too different from what you are accustomed to?” she asked, and he caught a tone of worry in her voice. “Was it…did you enjoy it?”

He linked his arms around her, tugging until she collapsed on top of him in a heap, damp skin against damp skin. “ _Enjoy_ it?” he asked, mumbling into her neck. “Liara, I’m seeing stars right now.”

Something dangerously close to a giggle issued from her lips. He pressed a kiss to her throat, running his fingers over the rills of her crest.

“I understand humans connect…differently,” she said. “We can try something similar if you would prefer. I know it can be done, with the proper…accessories.”

He grinned. “Believe me. We can do things your way for now. I’m very much okay with your way.” He shifted his hips, felt something dribble down his thigh and regaled her with a somewhat guilty expression. “Just don’t be surprised, by. Um. A little excess fluid.”

That unexpected slyness returned. “I’m not afraid of your fluid, Shepard. Though I have to admit I have a little greater understanding for your…preoccupation with your own anatomy.”

Shepard glanced unabashedly down at himself, then back up at her. “You have to be impressed I get so much done with an appendage that sensitive right there in my pants all the time.”

There was that near giggle again. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t…take advantage of that during debriefings?”

“Not unless you want me to cuddle up to the underside of your crest when you’re collating data in the CIC.”

She kissed the tip of his nose. “Noted.” 

Shepard’s gaze softened, and he cupped her cheek with a tender hand. “Stay with me tonight.” 

“Anything.”

He got up long enough to grab a handful of tissues, offering them in bumbling apology to help mop up the mess. After some awkward shuffling of limbs he tugged at the rumpled sheets until he managed to yank them over their still naked bodies. She sought for his hand until their fingers entwined. He felt heavy, leaden, but deliciously relaxed, tension, at least for now, granted a temporary reprieve.  

“Shepard?”

“Mmn.”

Her muscles shifted ever so slightly, a nuanced reshaping of sinews he might not have detected before the meld, but now sensed as clearly as if she’d voiced her sudden unease. “About tomorrow…”

“Don’t,” he said, tightening his arms around her. “Don’t worry about things you can’t control.”

“Please. This may have been the first time for us…but I do not also want it to be the last.”

He nuzzled her neck, the warmth of her body like an ember against his chest. “It won’t be. We’re going to win this, Liara. I promise you.”

“I will hold you to that.”

A contented sigh issued from his throat, the warm buzz still filling his extremities gently tugging his body deeper into drowsiness. “You won’t have to.”

Shepard slipped gradually into a restful slumber, and for once he didn’t dream.


	50. Vigilia

The Mu Relay looked no different from any other relay. The energy signatures fell within accepted parameters. It responded readily to Joker’s ping. The rings had started their spin without so much as a hiccup. 

Pressly tapped his fingers against a flight console, scowl on his lips. Joker eyed him from the helm.

“You know, old man, there’s nothing keeping you from watching this go down from the CIC.”

“I don’t like this,” the navigator said in reply.

Joker sighed. “Yeah…I gathered that. But you’re not the one flying, so until you stop giving off that heebie-jeebies vibe why don’t you go give it off somewhere else?”

Not surprisingly, Pressly ignored him. When he wanted to make a point he generally tuned out everything else until he’d accomplished it.

“No one’s used this relay for thousands of years. We have no idea if works, and no way to _test_ it.”

“Until we remember that the relays have apparently been around a _little_ longer than we thought.” _A fact everyone conveniently isn’t talking about._ “If Shepard’s right, those things could be a few _million_ years old. I’m not exactly worried about the equipment going bad.”

“Need I remind you this relay got knocked loose by a supernova _?_ ”

Joker made a disgruntled sound and pointed to his scans. “Do you see debris of a giant reaper floating around? I think it’s safe to assume Saren made it through. We’ll be fine. Don’t worry, Pressly, I’m here to save you.”

“I _still_ don’t like it.”

No way was Joker going to admit he actually agreed. Unless Sovereign had been lying the damn relays were _reaper_ technology, not prothean. Another fact everyone all the sudden seemed very, very careful not to mention. Who’s to say that the giant tin can hadn’t sabotaged the Mu Relay on its way through?

At the sound of approaching footsteps Pressly stood. Joker didn’t need the visual confirmation to know it was Shepard. The treads of that Colossus armor torturing the deckplates wasn’t exactly subtle. He shifted in his seat and tugged the brim of his hat a little lower on his head. Joker had been at the coffee machine when Liara had slipped out of his quarters rather early this morning. She hadn’t said anything and he sure as shit hadn’t spoken up, but. It was interesting nonetheless.

Shepard came to a halt behind his chair. “What’s it look like?”

Joker risked a quick look behind him. The commander wore his hardsuit in place of his fatigues and had enough firepower strapped to his back to supply a whole platoon. But nothing in Shepard’s face gave away anything that might have happened the night before. Not that he _expected_ it to. When he wanted to be, Shepard may have been the most opaque man to ever live. Great when you were dealing with an enemy. _Maddening_ when you were looking for a little ship gossip.

“She’s talking to us, sir. Numbers look good. Adams has the IES ready to go. Soon as you give the word we’re gone.”

More boots. This time Alenko, followed closely by Liara. Great. An audience for their imminent demise.

He snuck one more glance over his shoulder, this time at Liara, who appeared just as infuriatingly focused and neutral as Shepard. She stood on the opposite side of Alenko, gazing out through the shutters at the massive, rotating rings of the looming relay.

Her graven expression little resembled the dazed, almost delirious scientist Shepard had carried on board back on Therum. The first time she’d put on a hardsuit it had worn _her_ rather than the other way around. Now she owned it with an almost graceful aplomb. Like a soldier.

Amazing what killing your own mother and gunning down any combination of geth, plant zombies, possessed colonists, krogan warriors and goddamned _rachni_ could do to a person’s demeanor.

“Everything’s ready, Shepard,” Alenko reported. “Garrus and Wrex have the Mako primed.”

“Then let’s do this,” Shepard said grimly. “Joker? Take us in.”

Joker took in a deep breath, shot a quick glance at Pressly and pinged the relay.   “Initiating transmission sequence.” His fingers flashed over his haptic interface, comm panel lighting up with feedback as the relay acknowledged them. _So far, so good_.

“We’re connected. Calculating transit mass and acquiring an approach vector.”

“Here goes nothing,” Pressly murmured.

The relay’s rings spun faster, a growing sphere of energy swallowing the ship, swathing it in a mass-free cocoon. Joker braced himself as the stars heaved, twisting into dazzling streaks of light before snapping back into a completely new and unfamiliar alignment.

_Fuck, we’re still here._

No time to dwell on it. Joker immediately began running scans. Hell, after a few thousand years it was at least within the realm of possibility things might not be exactly where they’d been left. Even _finding_ star charts for Pangaea had taken a little doing. Liara had to call in a favor and have a colleague dig some up from an archive on Thessia.

“Adams,” Pressly called into the comm.

“ _Stealth systems online. We’re invisible.”_

“Good,” Joker said. “Because I have good news and bad news. The good news is Ilos is still where it’s supposed to be, and there’s no sign of Sovereign. The bad news is we have company.”  He pulled up his initial scans. “Geth dreadnaughts. Two of them.”

Alenko shifted his weight. “That’s…a lot of potential ground troops. What the hell is Saren doing down there?”

“I’m more worried on where Sovereign has stashed itself,” Shepard replied, brow furrowed.

Pressly scowled, squinting at new data scrolling across his interface. “I’m picking up some strange transmissions from the surface. Don’t know _what_ they’re doing, but I can at least tell you where they’re doing it.”

“The conduit,” Liara murmured. “Do you think he has found it?”

“Not going to wait around to find out,” Shepard replied, posture reforming into something Joker most definitely would not want to see coming at him on the battlefield. “Find us a drop point for the Mako. We’re going in.”

“Negative, Commander,” Pressly interrupted, swiftly working his haptic keys. “Nearest landing zone is two clicks away.”

Alenko took a step forward. “Shepard, even with the Mako we don’t have that kind of time.”

Shepard nodded. “Agreed. Pressly, I need alternatives.”

“There _is_ no other landing zone,” Pressly argued, jabbing a finger at his readouts. “I’ve looked! You need a drop zone of at least a hundred meters to get the Mako in safely. Closest I can find near Saren is twenty.”

Joker pulled up Pressly’s initial terrain scans while they argued. Saren’s forces appeared to be clustered in an aggregation of old ruins, presumably prothean. Dense jungle on the perimeter. Too much scattered stone and obstructions in any of the open areas. Pressly had isolated a twenty meter straightaway leading to some kind of bunker that sensors indicated ran deep, _deep_ underground. Conspicuously deep.

If Saren wasn’t in that bunker then Joker would get out and walk home.

Behind him the argument got louder. Pressly’s agitated insistence got even more agitated. Joker tuned it out and called up atmospheric telemetry. Wind velocity. Air density. Thruster output on the Mako, angle of descent…

_Twenty meters._

“I can do it,” he said aloud.

The arguing stopped. Several sets of eyes swiveled his direction.

Shepard hands dropped down onto Joker’s headrest, rocking his seat slightly as the commander hunched his shoulders and lowered his head. “Joker?”

“Twenty meter drop. I got this, sir. I’ll get you down there.”

The headset jumped again when Shepard let it go, but before the seat snapped back forward a reaffirming hand settled on Joker’s shoulder. “Let’s do it.”

“Yes _sir_.”

Shepard vacated the cockpit, sucking half the oxygen out of the room with him, Alenko and Liara at his heels. Pressly slid back into the seat on Joker’s right. He could sense the navigator’s scowl without having to look for it.

“Twenty meter drop. You’ve got to be insane.”

“I’m a miracle man, Pressly,” he replied, hoping his hand looked steadier than it felt. Shepard hadn’t even questioned it _._ No hesitation. No second guessing. Just blind faith.

Fuck if he was going to screw _that_ up.

“I got this,” he said with an exhale.

_Twenty meters._

~

Liara clutched the handle in the seat behind Alenko as Shepard gunned the Mako off the _Normandy’s_ ramp. The sickening sense of freefall lasted only seconds before the eezo core kicked in. Outside the windshield the bunker loomed fast and large.

Twenty meters didn’t sound like much to begin with, but seeing that wall of grey stone rise abruptly to meet them made it seem considerably smaller.

Garrus swore from the gunner’s seat.  On Joker’s cue Shepard fired the thrusters to normalize and slow their descent. The brakes groaned the moment the tires struck ground, and the tank slewed hard to the left, then back to the right. They came to a halt with the Mako’s nose less than half a meter from the unforgiving wall of granite sealing the bunker. Alenko exhaled audibly.

“ _Commander?”_

Shepard thumbed the comm. “We’re still here, Joker. Good work.”

From the back of the tank Wrex muttered under his breath, gripping the harness cage strapping him in with enough force to dent it. Liara’s own stomach had admittedly done a flip or two on the way down, but now that they were on land and in one piece, her gaze immediately sought the view outside the windshield.

Almost nothing about it existed in the records Liara had managed to dig up while grounded on the Citadel. Only one archive on Thessia had turned up search results for her query, but those results had mentioned something else of rather interesting note.

_A conduit to salvation_.

The clue _had_ been there, all along. She simply hadn’t had enough context to see it. And now they were here.

From what she could gather, the asari had never studied ruins on Ilos. The location of the Mu Relay in rachni space had discouraged exploration in Pangaea. In fact Liara wasn’t even sure where the reference to the planet came from in the first place. There were no recovered artifacts. No archeological sitemaps. No architectural commentary. Joker’s scans had indicated only a very small pocket of ruins still remaining, if there had been anything more in the first place. Landmasses with favorable building conditions existed in abundance, but only this small compound at the edge of a jungle had registered on sensors. It was almost as if Ilos had been an afterthought.

Or an act of desperation.

But even though she couldn’t see much through the Mako’s windshield, what she could make out puzzled her. Just like the ruins on Therum, it didn’t quite match what she knew about prothean architecture. They liked clean lines, efficient spaces. A proud but simple aesthetic, with little heraldry. What greeted them out the window achieved none of those ideals. Under thick trellises of climbing vines she could see hints of old, rust-colored stone, impeccably constructed to have survived so long, but there was a…flourish to it that took her by surprise. Decorative arches painstakingly grooved with exquisite detail stood along the boundary wall that fenced out the leering jungle. How it had managed to do so for millennia was beyond her. Surely none of the technology left behind could still be functioning. But how else had this small compound not been swallowed whole?

“What do you see on radar?” Shepard asked.

“Lot of activity, lot of geth signatures,” Alenko replied, voice threaded with frustration. “But they’re all behind those doors. Out here there’s…nothing. Not even a guard detail.”

“Don’t suppose Saren left the door unlocked,” Garrus mused.

A brief silence fell. Liara thoughts turned to Tali, and she doubted she was the only one.

Shepard peered thoughtfully out the windshield. “We have to get in there.”

“It doesn’t even look powered,” Liara observed.

“Reserves are low,” Alenko concurred. “But something’s still active. At least in the bunker. As for the rest of the compound…Wait. Look at this.” Alenko pointed to one of his scans. Liara leaned over his shoulder, eyes widening when she saw what he had found.

“Something is drawing power.”

Alenko nodded. “Very small. Not enough amperes to do much more than feed a console or two.”

Liara’s heart pounded. “Or—”

“If either of you say a beacon, I’m throwing you out of this tank.”

Liara bit her lip. His tone was light but she heard – _felt -_ the pain behind it. “We do not know that is the case. All of the evidence points to the protheans wishing to keep this place a secret. But whatever that power source is, we need to find it.”

“Yeah,” Shepard said after a pause, fingers drumming against the console. “If Saren’s already down there we’re a step behind. Time to catch up. Set a nav point to that power source. We’re going to go see if we can use it to breach that door.”

“Can’t get the tank through those ruins,” Garrus pointed out.

“Of course not,” Shepard said, reaching for the hatch. “That would be too easy.”

~

Outside the Mako the air was still, temperature warm. In lieu of an immediate threat Liara refrained from putting on her helmet, instead gazing about in wonder, fervently wishing she had her equipment with her and time to use it. Months. Years.

_Look at this place._

Latent sunlight cut through the trees, slanting down over the ruins and gracing them with a faint, scarlet glow. A weak breeze fluttered though the foliage, rustling it like dried parchment. Despite the pressure for haste, a somber, almost reverent feeling settled over Liara’s shoulders, as though she’d entered a monastery. No one spoke. The silence hanging over the compound lived and breathed.

Ilos did not feel abandoned. Ravaged. It felt merely forgotten, as though time had simply tired of it and moved on, trapping it in some half-remembered dream.

Shepard found a collapsed spot in the border and climbed over it into the facility proper, where they found themselves in a courtyard of ancient, tumbled masonry choked with overgrown flora. Positioned throughout were tall, slowly crumbling statues standing forlorn in the stillness.

At the sight of the statues Liara’s eyes widened. _Art!_ She stifled a cry of joy. For a moment her excitement was too great to find the juxtaposition strange. Abandoning all caution she strayed from her crewmates, approaching the nearest one with her heart pounding in her ears.

The graceful figure sat on a throne under the shadow of a stone archway, faceless head bowed as if in meditation or prayer. It had a faint suggestion of extremities not unlike her own; graceful ridges similar to the ones on the back of her own neck flowed down its trunk. Flagellations? Limbs?  

She placed a hand against one of the undulations. _Is this you? Is this what you look like?_ Goddess, was she finally face to face with the ghosts that had run rampant across her imagination for decades?

For all the data caches, fragmented archives and elusive technology the protheans had left scattered across the galaxy, almost nothing remained of what truly defined _them._ Art. Culture. The things that brought them _joy_.

But the same sense of incongruency she’d felt on Therum began to nag at her.

_The pattern has repeated itself more times than you can fathom._

Ilos was a window. But what if it looked in to the wrong room?

Footsteps approached her. Shepard’s gauntleted hand came to rest on her arm.  

“Shepard,” she breathed. “Do you see this?”

“We have to keep moving,” he said, though his voice was gentle. She nodded, backing slowly away and turning her head. Garrus and Alenko were halfway across the courtyard headed for a hill on the far side, both looking over their shoulders and waiting.  

“Sorry,” he said, with genuine contriteness in his voice. “I wish there was time to explore.”

She forced a smile. “No. You’re right. Let’s go.”

Shepard nodded and resumed his course. Liara followed, still casting glances behind her, until the statues were hidden from view.

~

“What do you think this place was?” Alenko asked.

They’d found an entrance leading underground. Not into the bunker, but some adjoining chamber that according to their sensors contained the mysterious power draw. Shepard squinted into the darkness and flicked on his helmet light to give them some illumination.

Thick, round tree roots bored through the ceiling, twining with stone before plunging into the ground below. Blankets of moss formed where thin rays of light snuck through. The air down here felt stale and dry, almost desiccated. Whatever purpose the room had served before couldn’t be discerned now. The fact that there any technology down here still functioned struck him as rather miraculous.

So far, everything about Ilos set his teeth on edge. When the Mako jetted out from the _Normandy’s_ cargo bay he’d been expecting to land in the middle of a firefight. Instead they’d spent nearly an hour skulking around like tourists while Saren inched closer to his goal. Liara was in heaven, but Shepard was ready to shoot anything that moved. From the creepy statues to the mausoleum-like atmosphere surrounding what he’d expected to be a research base, nothing here seemed right.

A rumble issued from Wrex’s throat. “Security.”

Garrus and Alenko both turned to look at him. The krogan shrugged.

“What? You think just because there are a few twisted statues out front this isn’t some kind of vault? It doesn’t still have power by mistake. The protheans wanted to keep something in and everything else out.”

 “I…agree with Wrex,” Liara said as she moved out into the open space, eyes roving but expression troubled.   

Shepard grunted. “I’m more worried about why Saren hasn’t left any troops behind to guard it.”  

“I’ve got a few theories,” Garrus offered. “None of them particularly encouraging.”

“Either there’s nothing for us to find, or Saren has better use for the contents of two geth dreadnaughts somewhere else,” Shepard supplied.

Garrus hummed. “That about sums it up, yes.”

“There,” Alenko said, pointing up to a second-level observation window overlooking the chamber. “That’s where the power draw is coming from.”

Shepard caught the hesitation even behind Alenko’s faceplate and sighed. “It’s a beacon, isn’t it.”

“Still not sure. But, uh. Doesn’t look good for you, sir.”

“Great,” Shepard said, tugging his helmet off and trudging his way towards the observation room. “Then let’s get this over with.”

“Shepard.”

The pinched note of concern in Liara’s voice brought him to a halt, shoulders tightening involuntarily under his hardsuit. “It’s fine,” he said without turning. “I’ve got this.” After all, he’d made progress with beacons. The second one hadn’t even exploded, and he’d at least held his sanity together long enough to go toe to toe with Saren. If he could do that well again there was nothing to worry about. Fallout was a problem for another day, beyond the parameters of the mission. And anything beyond mission parameters wasn’t important.

He expected her to voice her objection. She didn’t. By this point she’d probably seen enough to know he wasn’t going to change his mind.

“Saren has been here,” Wrex said with a growl, scaly lips pulling away from his teeth. “I can smell him.”

“Then at least we know we’re in the right place.”

Wrex and Garrus took up defensive positions on the chamber’s ground floor. After all, despite how quiet things appeared, in Saren’s place Shepard would have set up an ambush. No reason to assume the former Spectre wouldn’t do the same. The fact that that he hadn’t only confirmed what Shepard already guessed – time was of the essence, and whatever it was he had planned, he didn’t think Shepard was a big enough threat to warrant concern.

Well. Shepard intended to prove _that_ assumption wrong.

It didn’t take much to find the active console. Wrex was right - Saren had already been here and done the dirty work for them. Thick layers of dust and detritus covered the floor of the observation room, and whatever glass or panel that had covered the window looking out on the room below was long gone. But in the very center one console had been cleaned, its panel restored, a soft glow emanating from its interface.  

The good news was it didn’t _look_ like a beacon. Or at least not like the others.

“Why wouldn’t he have just cut power to the console?” Shepard asked. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Alenko examined it briefly with an omnitool. “Doesn’t look like you _can._ It’s tapped directly into whatever’s still running in the bunker.”

Wrex grunted from below. “You mean he wasn’t clever enough to just shoot it?”

Alenko raised an eyebrow and shrugged. Shepard opened his mouth to reply, but the console flashed. A starburst of projected light collated into a sphere not much bigger than Shepard’s head, its radius distending sporadically where the emitters were damaged.

\-- _The taint of indoctrination does not lie upon you._

Shepard sucked air though his teeth, hands flying to his ears as though they could ward off the sudden buzz inside his skull. Beside him Liara gasped. Alenko’s feature’s twisted as he pressed fingers to his temples.

The thing hadn’t spoken aloud. He’d _heard_ it, but not…heard it.

The buzzing sensation intensified, sending a current of warmth through his extremities. It clawed at his brain just like the beacon, but without the steel bite that severed control over his own body and manipulated his darkest memories like fucking puppets.

\--What are you?

He’d meant to speak the words aloud. Had actually opened his mouth to push them out. But instead they bounced around in his temporal lobe, never actually uttered, though to his rapidly diminishing surprise the sphere appeared to have understood.

\-- _I am Vigil. An advanced non-organic analysis system with personality imprints from Ksad Ishan, chief overseer of the Ilos research facility. Your arrival here is one of many scenarios we anticipated._

_\--_ What do you mean? What scenarios?

The light sphere vanished, along with the rest of the room. Shepard stifled a gasp. For a moment he swam in nothingness, feeling solid ground beneath his feet but unable to find any sense of bearing. No smell. No light. No sound. Though he was positive Liara and Alenko still stood right next to him, he had no awareness of them at all.

The room flooded with light, but it wasn’t the same room. It wasn’t even the same _time_. No bracken covered the walls. No debris marred the floor. Tall, smooth walls rose up over his head almost as far as he could see, lined floor to ceiling with rows upon rows of identical, cylindrical pods whose edges gleamed with circlets of light. Dark shapes moved back and forth beneath, the last remaining shadows of a long dead race, waiting and watching for time to catch up and snuff them out.

The bunker.

He could feel their hopelessness. These people had known they were defeated. But twined with their hopelessness he sensed also a dogged resolve, the kind that only death could shake, and Shepard did not believe death had come easily to anyone who had dwelled here. 

\-- _You are here because of the reapers._

_\--_ Yes.

\-- _Then you know of our fate._

( _we are prothean and we traverse the stars_ )

\--Yes.

\-- _We had hoped this would come to pass. That the next cycle would uncover our warnings and learn from our mistakes._

\--What is this place?

\-- _The last surviving outpost of the prothean empire. We were too little, too late, but it may yet prove that our final days were not spent in vain._

\--Tell me about the conduit. What is it? Why do the reapers want it?

\-- _The conduit is a portal, one the reapers intend to use to seize control of your cycle._

_\--_ Explain.

\-- _The citadel is the heart of your civilization and the seat of government, is it not?_

_\--_ Yes.

_\--As it was with us. And every civilization that came before us. But the Citadel is a trap._

Ice slithered in Shepard’s gut.

\-- _It functions as an enormous mass relay. One that links to dark space beyond the galaxy’s horizon._

  _(…there are empty spaces between the stars, a cold interstitum of utter dark, where blood runs black and monsters lurk. In the silence something broods, waits, watches_ )

\-- _When the relay is activated, the reapers will return._

( _the monsters are awake, and they set the stars ablaze_ )

\-- _All you know will be destroyed._

Silence. Shepard watched the shadows lurk. Watched the narrow bands of light flash on a sea of pods – lifeboats – that gleamed like tiny stars.

_This will be us. This is how we could end._

He drew in a breath.

\--I need to know how it happens.

The ball of light bobbing in his peripheral waxed and waned, then shimmered.

\-- _Every cycle, the dominant races discover the Citadel. But they also discover the subservient race that maintains it._

_-_ -…the keepers?

\-- _Yes. We come to rely on them. Allow them to maintain technology we do not understand in order to use it. Reliance on the keepers ensures that no other species will discover the Citadel’s true nature. Not until the relay is activated and the reapers invade._

Shepard put the pieces together. The Council. Every attaché to every species of prominence. A hub of sensitive information all ripe for the taking.  A single surprise attack and the reapers would throw them into chaos.

\--They’ll have our records. Starcharts. Know exactly where to find us and how to kill us.

\-- _That was our fate. Our leaders were dead before we even realized we were under attack. Through the Citadel, they also controlled the mass relays. Communication and transportation across our empire were crippled. Instead of unified fleets met in strength, the reapers traveled from system to system and found easy prey. We were systematically obliterated._

\--But you did something. You tried _something_. The conduit. Saren is after it. I can’t let him get it.  

_\--You refer to the other lifeform that came before you._

_\--_ Yes.

\-- _He is a tool of the reapers. An indoctrinated slave. There will be more. Many more. Ever and again the reapers turned our own people against us, taking us down from within. Every foothold we gained, every act of desperation we launched, ultimately ended in betrayal. For all their might, this proved to be their most powerful weapon._

\--I’m…beginning to understand that. How did you overcome it?

\-- _Ilos was a secret facility, known to few. Most who knew of its existence perished in the initial Citadel attack. After the reapers arrived and the threat of indoctrination became known, we severed all communications. No one knew of our research. There were no records. The reapers knew nothing of our existence. World after world burned, but Ilos was spared. Ishad recognized that our people were doomed. So our scientists retreated into the archives and submitted themselves to cryogenic stasis. I was programmed to monitor the facility, and wake them when the danger had passed._

Shepard gazed around at the hundreds of stasis pods embedded in the walls of the bunker. An entire people distilled into a paltry collection of small, black caskets, the only sign of life within them coming from the illuminated strips of light on their oval panels.

The vision blurred. As time began to pass, decades stretching into centuries, one by one, the lights began to wink out.

One by one, the stars dimmed. Until there were none.

_\--The genocide of an entire species is a long, slow process. My energy reserves began to dwindle. When they became critical, my contingency programming required disabling life support to all non-essential personnel. By the time the reapers retreated back through the relay, only our top scientists remained._

_\--_ Why not fight? Why not _try?_ There wouldn’t have been enough of you here to perpetuate the species. Why not finish your work, or die trying!

\-- _Our work would not have saved the protheans. However, we did believe that if we could complete it, might prevent the reaper’s next return and spare the next cycle._

The walls of the bunker shimmered like a star field racing past the _Normandy’s_ shutters. It re-solidified in a wide open space, filled with a deep, resounding _thrum_ that raced its way up and down the walls in ceaseless repetition. At the center Shepard saw a familiar shape rising out of the ground, at the center of which turned a pair of rotating rings.  

A relay.

_\--Before the reapers struck, the scientists at this facility were close to understanding the technology behind the mass relays. While our empire crumbled we succeeded in creating small-scale version of a mass relay that links directly to the Citadel - the hub of the relay network._

Shepard thought back to his first conversation with Liara in the medbay. _A conduit to salvation._

\--You designed a backdoor onto the Citadel. 

\-- _Yes. The portal is a prototype that only links in one direction. But it was sufficient for our plans. The Citadel is the key to the reaper’s strategy of attack. The keepers are their servants, and they respond to the reapers’ commands. When the reapers wish to begin their harvest, a signal is sent that compels them activate the Citadel relay. After decades of study, we discovered a way to alter this signal. Using the conduit, they gained access to the abandoned Citadel and made the modifications._

_\--_ So when the reapers signaled the keepers to start the next harvest…nothing happened.

\-- _Correct. Without the Citadel relay the reapers are trapped in dark space._

_\--_ Sovereign – he’s using Saren to find out what went wrong.

\-- _The one you call Saren will use the conduit to bypass the Citadel’s defenses. Once inside, he will transfer control of the station to the reapers. The cycle of extinction will begin again._

_\--_ We have to stop him. Help me.

\-- _I can provide data that can disrupt Citadel security protocols and give you temporary control over the station. It may be enough to give you a chance. Find the master control unit and upload the data._

\--Master control unit?

_\--Go to the Citadel tower. Follow the conduit. Follow Saren._

Shepard watched the miniature relay’s oscillating rings. A conduit to salvation. Saren would be there now, had probably already used it. What if they were too late?

\--We don’t have much time. I have to get into the bunker.

\-- _I will unseal the doors. You still have hope. Use it well. Do not let our last act be in vain._

The bunker vanished, the stifled, ancient remains of the observation room swimming back into focus with an uneven lurch.

“Shepard!”

Liara had him by the arm, one hand against the side of his face, blue eyes wide with alarm. Alenko stood immediately behind her, helmet off, omnitool out, medical scan running with a tight, pinched expression at the corner of his eyes.

Shepard pulled away from them, taking one sluggish step towards the ramp leading back down to the basement. “We have to go.” The words slurred coming out of his mouth. For a moment he was afraid they hadn’t even been words. At least not ones he recognized. Alenko seized him by the arm.

“No way. What the hell just happened?”

Shepard scowled, rolling his tongue around in his mouth until it felt like his again. “Didn’t you hear it?”

“Yeah, we heardit. My ears are still ringing. What _happened_ to you?”

Liara stilled. “You did not hear what we heard.”

Shepard put his fingers to his forehead as he shook off the last ropes of his fugue. “I talked to it. Vigil. Its name is Vigil. Why…what did you hear?”

Alenko grimaced, fingers at his temple. “Jackhammers.”

“The cipher,” Liara supplied. “Their technology is based on an organic neural interface. Like the beacons! The cipher enabled you to transcribe the interaction into something you could comprehend.”

“What did it say?” Alenko asked.

Shepard was already halfway down the ramp. “I’ll explain on the way. Joker! Do you copy?”

_“Loud and clear, Commander.”_

“Put Pressly on.”

Shepard felt the curious eyes of his crewmates, but he did not pause to explain, breaking into a jog in his hurry to get back to the Mako.

“ _Here, sir. What do you need?”_

“I need you to take the _Normandy_ and cut and run.”

“… _sir?”_

“Get ahold of Admiral Hackett. Find the Fifth Fleet.”

_“And leave you behind? Are you out of your mind?”_

“Fair question,” Wrex gruffed. Shepard ignored him.

“You’re not leaving us behind. We’re just going to catch another ride. The Citadel’s about to be under attack, if it’s not already. Get everyone you can muster and rendezvous with the Citadel fleet. Wait for my signal.”

“ _Commander—”_

“That’s an order, Pressly. She’s your ship now. Take ‘er and go.”

“ _Aye, aye, sir.”_

They weren’t too late. They _couldn’t_ be too late. Fifty thousand years and countless cycles of endless genocide rested on this moment. Right now. Shepard released a breath.

The waning sunlight of Ilos waited for them when they returned to the surface. Shepard glanced up at the sky, where the _Normandy_ was hopefully breaking orbit and setting course for the relay.

“Godspeed,” he murmured.


	51. Canalis

“This is insane, right? You realize how insane this is?”

If Joker could have stood up and punctuated his outburst with more emphatic body language he would have. This was the kind of situation where you got up and paced. As it was, all he could do was throw a hand around and toss his hat on the console. It didn’t quite have the same effect.

“He gave the order,” Pressly said, a line dug into his brow like frontline foxhole. “We’re following it. I’m sending you the coordinates. Start calculating the jump back to Hawking Eta.”

“We’re taking a _stolen ship_ right into the arms of the Fifth Fleet and expecting them to follow our orders. _Without_ our commander, I might add. We’re not going to rally them to the Citadel. We’re going to wind up in shackles.”

“We’re not rendezvousing with the Fifth Fleet,” Pressly informed him, working feverishly at his terminal.

“What the hell do you mean?”

“I mean the Fifth Fleet is at Arcturus. To get all the way there _and_ to the Citadel is six jumps. If we bypass Arcturus it’s half that. I don’t know about you, but if Saren’s about to attack I don’t think we can afford that kind of time.”

“So how the hell are we getting Hackett to join our cause?”

“I’ll worry about that. You worry about putting those god-like piloting skills you yap about to work and get us to Serpent as fast as humanly possible.”

_Because on top of handing ourselves over to the Alliance, I have to find a way to cut corners on three relay jumps and try not to kill us in the process._ How the fuck did Shepard handle life or death situations on a _daily_ basis?

But even as he thought his fingers worked. The jump calculations from the Mu Relay were still in the logs. Now that he had a frame of reference to work with, he wouldn’t have to start from scratch. Relays were like turians. They all looked the same until you took the time to get to know them. Then you discovered no two relays behaved quite the same. Some you had to sweet talk.

He shifted a glance to Pressly, who was on the comm to Adams in Engineering.

“How much time do we have on the heat sinks if we engage the IES once we reach Horsehead?”

“ _Hour at the most, unless we get a chance to vent.”_

“We’ll try when we reach Hawking Eta. But if we can’t, make sure you give me that hour. If things don’t go according to plan we’re going to need that stealth drive.”

_“Aye, sir.”_

Joker shifted a little in his chair. “Pressly…what are you going to do?”

The _Normandy’s_ XO punched at his comm panel, grizzled expression reminding Joker that despite his ill humor and the permanent dour downward twist of his mouth, Pressly was a naval officer – a damn good one – who had stared down the turians during the First Contact War without blinking. The sudden reminder was unexpectedly reassuring, even though deep down Joker still couldn’t figure how they weren’t _monumentally_ screwed.

Pressly exhaled. “As soon as we can get access to a comm buoy I’m raising Admiral Hackett, and hoping like hell he believes in the commander as much as Anderson claims he does.”

Joker swallowed. “And. Um. If he doesn’t?”

“Then we’re going to be _really glad_ we have a stealth ship.”

~

Tali eased off the med bay table with only a hint of a grimace. Rezorah watched with her hands on her hips and offered a slight nod of approval. 

“Everything looks good. Your suit seals have been reinforced, immunoboosters are elevated to the desired levels. The internal damage is healing normally, and most important of all, the infection has been neutralized. How do you feel?”

“Stir crazy,” Tali replied. If she had to stare at these mundane grey walls for a second longer she was going to start her own mutiny.

_Don’t think about the_ Normandy. _Don’t you even start._ She drew in a deep breath. “I’m glad to be alive. Thank you, ma’am.”

Rezorah nodded. “The human doctor did impressive work. I commend her.”

“I wish I could tell her that in person.”

Rezorah smoothed the fabric of her hood, a small hum running through her vocal emitters. A simple, meaningless sound that was nonetheless so familiar, so _comforting_ that Tali ached. Quarians made so much more _noise_ than other species. Sound for the sake of sound, a reminder that someone was there, a subconscious refusal to let the silence get too thick or too lonely. Quarians understood isolation so much more acutely than other cultures, and went out of their way to ease it in ways that Tali hadn’t thought to appreciate until they were absent. That one small sound stirred up a sense of home sickness unlike anything she’d felt since Garrus had found her in the _Normandy’s_ elevator her first day onboard.

As boring at the med clinic had been, having Rezorah around had been a welcome comfort.

“Well,” Rezorah said, clasping her hands together. “There is nothing more I need to do for you. You are free to go.”

_Sure,_ Tali thought. But go where? The _Normandy_ had almost become home. Now that it was gone, she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She didn’t have the geth data on her that Shepard had promised. Without it she couldn’t complete her Pilgrimage. And despite how much she missed the Flotilla right at this moment…she wasn’t quite ready to go back yet. The job wasn’t finished.

_Hard to finish a job when the ship leaves without you_.

The _Normandy_ was gone. Shepard’s old captain incarcerated. The Alliance had kept it quiet so far - nothing had appeared on the vids yet – but uniformed representatives had come to Dr. Michel’s clinic looking for her, wanting to interrogate her for answers. Rezorah had run them off, with the help of Dr. Michel. They’d be back.

“I will be departing for the Fleet in the morning,” Rezorah said. “If you wish to accompany me, I can book you passage. Your father will be most happy to see you.”

Tali very much doubted that. Without a gift for her Captain, coming home would brand her with a mark of shame that would put a damper on their reunion. But if she didn’t accept, it would mean getting stranded on the Citadel with nowhere to stay and no one to trust. She thought of Keenah, the first time in a long time actually, and the run for her life that had ended with a human commander, a krogan mercenary and a turian C-Sec officer coming to her aid in a back alley.  

Miracles like that didn’t happen twice.

“I suppose that’s best,” she said, successfully suppressing her sigh but not the slump of her shoulders.

The lights of the med bay flickered. A panel on the far side of the clinic where Dr. Michel sat working at her desk began to shriek, sending her shooting to her feet in surprise and swearing in a language Tali’s translator didn’t catch.

“What is it?” Tali asked, automatically reaching for a shotgun that wasn’t there as she made her way to the other side of the medbay. Certain habits got ingrained quick when you worked with Shepard.

Dr. Michel stared at the message scrolling across her feed. “The whole Citadel is going into lockdown. There’s been some kind of attack on the Presidium.”

“Attack?” Tali asked, her voice rising sharply.

The station shook. _Shook._ Tali stumbled, grabbed for the edge of the desk. A cabinet flew open, sending medical supplies spilling out onto the floor. Rezorah slammed into the nearest medical bed with a grunt.

The Citadel didn’t shake. Seven billion metric tons _didn’t shake_.

An artificial voice – Avina, the station’s VI – echoed over a Citadel-wide comm. 

_“Critical failures detected across all monitored systems. Please begin emergency evacuation procedures. This is not a drill.”_

Dr. Michel turned wide eyes to the two quarians. “There’s an emergency evac hub near the lower markets.”

“Come on,” Tali said.

Another explosion nearly sent all three of them sprawling to the floor. Michel slapped the door panel and forced it open, gesturing frantically for Tali and Rezorah to follow.

The medbay itself was located in a relatively secluded portion of the Upper Wards, but as they drew nearer to the observation windows, throngs of people began to build. Shoppers in the markets. Patrons of Flux. Male and female dancers from Chora’s Den, still wearing slinky dresses and skin-tight fabric over their groins that left little to the imagination, in some cases missing their shoes.

The signs of panic differed from species to species. In asari and humans you could see it in their eyes. Turians showed it through their mandibles. Salarians blinked more often. The rhythmic hiss and sigh of the volus’ breathing apparatus became broken and quick.  

As the number of frightened civilians pouring into the hallways grew, the situation quickly began to spiral. They began to jostle. Shove. Too many bodies moving in incongruent directions, too many people looking for shortcuts and a means to hasten their escape. A salarian slammed into Tali’s left shoulder, knocking her against Rezorah. In front of them a volus tottered and fell. Tali braced herself to keep from treading on him, holding her breath as Dr. Michel tried to help him up.

Where was C-Sec? Where was _anyone_? 

Once the volus was up and moving again, Tali pulled out her omnitool, heart thudding in her throat.

“I need to access emergency traffic comms. Find out what’s going on.”

Rezorah and Michel flanked her on either side, using their elbows to try and create some room. In the chaos it took her longer than it should have to crack the system, but the reward for her troubles turned out to be more than enough.

_Geth on the Presidium. Hostile vessels have entered Citadel space and opened fire. Council ordered to evacuate. Destiny Ascension under attack._

Saren. He was _here._

_Well, Shepard. Turns out of you’d stayed put the fight would have come to you._

“I have to get to the Presidium,” Tali said aloud.

“That’s crazy!” Dr. Michel exclaimed. “They’re locking everything down, we have to evacuate!”

“If Saren gets what he’s after it’s not going to matter,” she said. “You go. Get to safety. Good luck!”

Without waiting for a reply she threw a shoulder to her right, forcing herself into the paths of fleeing civilians in an effort to cleave her way to the far wall. Not far ahead there was an access corridor that lead to the Presidium.

Michel and Rezorah’s rousing objections got smothered by the crowd. Within moments they were lost from sight.

She was on her own.

The access corridor was right where she remembered. After knifing her way through a cluster of turians she managed to reach the door. For a second she thought it would be sealed, but the lockdown apparently only cut power to the elevators.

Ok. She could deal with that. She just needed to _get_ to the elevator.

Inside the access corridor it was remarkably quiet. She paused for just a moment, leaning against the wall to catch her breath.

If the geth were on the Presidium, Saren wouldn’t be far behind. Tali was pretty sure she could cut through the lockdown if she could gain access to the system and find a way up there. But she had no gun. No backup. Just _her._

_Think. Think!_

Shepard’s captain. What had his name been? Anderson! Captain Anderson could help her. And she was willing to bet it would be easier to make her way to the Alliance holding cells than it would be to cut a path to Saren himself.

_Ok. You have a plan. Time to execute._

And if she met some unwanted company on the way? She pulled out her omnitool once more, feverishly working the haptic keys. She may not have a gun or grenades, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a few tricks hidden in her suit.

If there was one thing quarians excelled at, it was improvisation.

~

Garrus’ plates tightened as Shepard gunned the Mako back to life, the sound of the tank’s engines shattering Ilos’ serene silence. The bunker doors, still sealed tight moments ago, groaned as the ancient mechanisms began to grind, rolling back the thick concrete to expose a narrow track that plunged downward into a black maw of darkness.

Well, _that_ wasn’t foreboding at all.

“So, just to make sure we’re all clear,” Garrus said. “The protheans built a mass relay in some forgotten basement that Saren is using to invade the Citadel with a geth army so he can turn control of it over to a race of sentient killing machines who want to destroy the galaxy. And we’re going after him with five ground soldiers and a tank.”

Shepard hit the accelerator. “Yep.”

Alenko tilted his head. “Actually, technically three soldiers, a mercenary and a prothean archeologist.”

Wrex guffawed. Garrus flicked a mandible.

“Does anyone else feel like we’re trapped inside a really bad vid?”

“If so, that’s probably a good thing,” Shepard replied. “Doesn’t the good guy always win in the vids?”

“Numbers mean nothing,” Wrex declared. “So long as you have bigger guns with more bullets.”

“Do we?” Garrus asked.

The krogan’s throaty chuckle was not exactly reassuring.

“He will have reached the conduit by now,” Liara said as Shepard steered the Mako into the archives. “He may already be on the Citadel.”

“Judging from those dreadnaughts in orbit he had a helluva ground team to send through,” Shepard replied. “It’s going to take time. Hopefully we can take a few of them out before they make the jump.”

Garrus’ brow plate twitched. “This is again where I mention we’re five people in a tank.”

“A tank with guns,” Shepard reminded him.

“And a scope,” Alenko offered.

Liara leaned forward, looking over Alenko’s shoulder. “Goddess. Look!”

As they rolled deeper into the archives, illumination that had been scant to nonexistent became more prevalent. Little remained of the archive’s reserves to provide any power to the facility, but Saren had evidently taken the time to set up his own. Temporary lighting had been strung along the trench bisecting the main archive, the small luminous beacons sending lengthy shadows racing up the walls. Row upon row of cryogenic chambers, some still recessed but most jutting out from their niches in the wall, ran above and before them, all dark and dim. The deeper the Mako went the higher the walls rose, until they drifted through a starfield of silent coffins. The final graveyard of an entire species, and they’d buried themselves rather than wait for the reapers to do it. Garrus shuddered.   

“They had no hope,” Liara murmured. “None at all, yet they still gave their lives for a chance to spare whoever came after them.”

“Shepard,” Alenko said, the sudden tightness in his voice snapping Garrus back to attention. “I’m reading geth ahead. And that energy signature we sighted earlier? It’s dead ahead. Whatever Vigil told you appears to be right. It’s an eezo core. A big one.”

“Garrus,” Shepard said. “Got that cannon ready?”

“Locked and loaded.”

“I’m setting course for the heart of the conduit, and I’m holding to it no matter what. Fire on anything that moves. We’ve only got to last long enough to get through.”

Liara braced herself. From the infantry seats Wrex grunted. As Shepard slewed around the corner, Garrus caught a flash of silver, saw the jointed legs of a colossus pivot towards them.

Not one colossus. _Many_. And a host of geth, ranging from standard troopers right on up to the giant juggernauts. Behind them, in a circular chamber that glowed bright with flares of blue light, Garrus saw the relay’s rotating rings.

The passage between them and the conduit was narrow. No cover. And it wasn’t short.  

“Shepard,” Garrus said through gritted teeth. “There are very few scenarios in which having you behind the wheel is in anybody’s best interest, but in this case your insanity is the only thing we have going for us.”

Garrus could not see his face, but when he spoke he could hear the commander’s grin.

“Everybody hang on!”

~

One jump down. Two to go.

Hawing Eta coalesced around them a violent shudder. Pressly already had his comm panel active, pinging the nearest buoy with one hand and paging Adams with the other.

“Adams,” he barked. If you’re going to vent the heat sinks, do it now. Joker. Set up the next jump. Once I make this call we aren’t going to have any time to waste.”

“Easy, old man. I’ve got quantum math leaking out my ears. I’m on it.”

Chase jogged into the cockpit, eyes wide, voice threaded with anxiety. “Sir…Admiral Hackett is on the line.”  

Pressly pursed his lips and flipped open the comm. Chase, rather than go back to her spot in the CIC hallway, plunked down in the vacant seat to Joker’s left. _I like fireworks as much as the next person_ , Joker thought to himself, _but I don’t know if these are going to be as pretty as you’re hoping for._

They didn’t have a viewscreen in the cockpit, which was probably a good thing. If Joker had to look Hackett in the eye while Pressly was speaking, he might actually throw up. As much as he liked to thumb his nose at authority, he wasn’t an idiot. Mutiny was serious business, and there wasn’t anyone in the Alliance Navy Joker wanted to piss off _less_ than Steven Hackett.

When the Admiral’s voice filtered over the comm it sounded like carefully polished gravel – gruff, leaden and laced with iron, a stone that had been battered by wind and currents for eons but still maintained an uncomfortably sharp edge.

_“_ Normandy, _this is Admiral Hackett. Transmit your location and prepare for interception by an Alliance Patrol. You are to surrender the ship and order your entire crew to stand down. Do so peacefully and Command will take that into consideration for your court martial.”_

Jesus, they were _fucked._

Pressly, to his well-deserved credit, didn’t so much as flinch. “Admiral, this is _Normandy_ XO Lieutenant Commander Charles Pressly. I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir.”

The pause went half a beat longer than it should have. It wasn’t like Hackett to openly demonstrate surprise. Then again, it wasn’t like Shepard to shirk responsibility and foist it onto the shoulders of his crew. _Wait until you hear this fish story, Hackett. It’ll knock your socks off. It’s got mermaids and everything._

_“Where’s Shepard.”_  

Pressly fingers twisted in his lap. “He’s not on board, sir. He’s doing his job. The Citadel is about to be under attack, if it isn’t already. He requested that you move the Fifth Fleet into position in the Exodus cluster and prepare to come to the Council’s aid.”

More silence. Joker’s heart thumped. _Calculations, dammit, finish the damn calculations._

“ _The Alliance is not in the habit of following the recommendations of someone wanted for treason,”_ Hackett answered. “ _The Council fleet has not requested aid.”_

Nothing softened in the Admiral’s tone. But Joker picked up on something new in that jagged voice. Something careful, almost curious. Pressly’s lips tightened.

“They aren’t going to have time to, sir. Attack’s going to come from within. Once it succeeds they’ll be vulnerable, and dealing with a veritable shit storm on all fronts.”

If Joker could have high-fived Pressly for saying the word _shit storm_ to the leader of the Fifth Fleet he fucking would have.

“ _What proof do you have of this attack?_ ”

“None,” Pressly replied. “Just Shepard’s word.”

“ _That’s not good enough.”_

Pressly’s posture reshaped itself, like a drive core spinning up and roaring to life. “Then you’ll just have to come after us, sir. Weapons’ hot. And the more of you the better, because I’m not surrendering this ship without a fight.”

He severed the comm link. Joker’s jaw dropped.

“Did you just _challenge_ the entire Fifth Fleet to paint their ladar all over our hull?”

“No,” Pressly replied, shoulders so brittle with tension they looked even more fragile than Joker’s china skeleton. “I gave him a reason to give the order. He can’t make a preemptive move on the Citadel on the advice of someone who’s not only wanted for court martial but not even on _board._ I just gave him a target he _can_ move against.”

Joker stared at him. “Are you kidding me? Pressly…that’s. That’s kind of brilliant.”

“How’re those jump calculations coming, Lieutenant?”

“Pressly. That was a compliment. From _me_. Not even a thank you?”

“I’ll be more thankful for those _jump calculations._ ”

“Pressly?”

This time Chase was the one who’d spoke up. They both swiveled their heads to her. Joker had almost forgotten she was even there.

“What?” the XO snapped.

“I’m getting some strange readings from the relay.”

The corner of Pressly’s mouth quirked. “Joker. I need those calculations _now.”_

“I’m working as fast as I can, old man.”

“Work _faster_.”

“Fuck,” Joker swore. “Ok, everyone. Here goes nothing.”

~

Tali braced her weight on her heels, fingers hooked in the slats of the grate that stood between her and the Presidium. It had taken nearly two hours on her hands and knees, but she’d finally reached it. Pain shot through her spine, knots of muscle cramped in her legs, and her still-healing tissues had developed their own voice that had since learned to shout.

She yanked on the grate, but it didn’t move. Ash and smoke wafting through from the carnage below snarled her toxin scrubbers, the last thing she probably needed, but she wasn’t in a position to play it safe. Another yank. Nothing.

_Dammit, I did not get this far to get stopped by a vent._

With a grunt and some rather creative rearranging she shifted herself around until her feet pointed towards the grate. But a familiar warbling stopped her mid-kick. 

Geth _._ Right below her. Three of them, according to her suit scanner.

Time to improvise. She pulled up her omnitool. Without grenades she couldn’t exactly fall back on her usual ECM. But thanks to the vent she was a lot closer to them than she could be on the battlefield. Close enough, perhaps, to hack _directly_ into a low level system and modify it just a touch…

Of course, if it didn’t work, she’d be broadcasting her location with nowhere to run. But.

_Shepard would do it_.

Tali braced herself, then uploaded the code using a short-range signal on her omnitool and counted to three before savagely kicking the grate. It popped free with a creak and clattered to the floor below. Tali didn’t wait to see if her plan had worked. If it did, she’d have about ten seconds, tops, before their optics software recalibrated. If it didn’t, she was about to be shot – _again_ – and it wouldn’t matter anyway.

She shoved herself out of the grate and fell to the ground in a heap – the way down had been farther than she thought – scrambled to her feet and began to run, sailing nimbly around piles of rubble, collapsed rebar, exposed cabling, fractured bulkheads. Her suit registered a sharp temperature spike out on the open. Sensors automatically began picking out fires and pinging her HUD with proximity warnings. Her toxin scrubbers worked madly to filter out the acrid smoke, but it couldn’t neutralize the stench. 

She caught glimpses of the geth out of her periphery – two troopers and a destroyer – all of them stock still as their optics recalibrated.

The human embassy was to the left and past the bridge, and the Alliance holding cells were two buildings over from that. She could get there. She could get there.

But Keelah, she hadn’t expected the damage to be this bad. This _fast_.

The air on the Presidium had grown thick and hazy, the environmental control systems either offline or unable to compensate for the amount of smoke billowing from scorched craters now marring the pristine ramps and gleaming facades. Gouts of orange flame leapt up steel trellises, raging unchecked through the upscale shops and embassies. It didn’t take long for her to realize that the reek in the air wasn’t just burning alloys and polymers. It was bodies.

And worse. Metal spikes marched a line down one of the tarnished walkways, tips dripping red with human blood.

The familiar whine of a pulse rifle sent her skidding behind a pile of debris that had once been the patio of a nice café. The air shuddered and reshaped, like all the oxygen had been sucked out and replaced with static electricity. Her limbs locked tight and she made herself a little smaller behind the flimsy shield of an overturned table. _That_ hadn’t been a pulse rifle. That had been an accelerator cannon.

_Armatures?_ How the hell had the geth gotten armatures on board? How had they breached the station at all, for that matter?

She drew in a deep breath. A quick check of her scanner showed her that the armature – as well as another platoon’s worth of geth – was a good thirty meters away, near the relay statue. Still within easy range, but they weren’t likely to see her so long as she laid low. After all, she wasn’t trying to engage them. She just needed to get to Shepard’s old captain. Get help. Get guns. Find Saren. He had to be here. But when she pushed to her feet, her knees buckled.

She exhaled, briefly fogging her faceplate. Shepard wouldn’t stop here. And since Shepard _wasn’t_ here, she couldn’t either. _On your feet. Time to go._

Tali may not have been a soldier, but there was a noticeable lack of soldiers to be had, and after serving with Shepard she’d learned a few tricks.

Without giving herself time to think, she rocked forward on her heels and launched out of her hiding place, weaving in and out of the rubble as swift as she dared. 

But when she drew closer to the relay monument she gasped.

_It wasn’t a monument._  

The frozen rings at the center were _spinning_ , so fast and hard she couldn’t believe they hadn’t flown apart, weaving a thick web of dark energy that bled into the wreckage of the Presidium. And then something appeared.

Geth. Accompanied by a colossus.

The statue was a _relay!_

_The conduit._

She ducked into a storefront and slammed her back against the wall, trying to breathe. Geth swarmed the area around the relay. And Tali didn’t have a gun. She dropped down and began searching the debris in the shop for something usable. Ceramic. Plastic. Alloys. Anything she could melt down into omnigel. The thermite round schematics were still on her omnitool. She might not have any actual bullets, but maybe she didn’t need them. If she could mix thermite with a solvent that would preserve its volatility and create a dispersal pattern…

Just insane enough to work.

She hoped.

~

Garrus’ head banged against the Mako’s hull as Shepard jerked the wheel. The windshield blurred as a shiver of blue light from a Colossus cannon punched through the shields. The air hissed, tires squealed, gears ground as Shepard struggled to bring the Mako’s nose back to bear. Ahead, the rings of the conduit relay continued to spin, snarls of dark energy snapping and sparking at their center.

“That was close, Shepard,” Liara cried.

“It was either take a hit from one or three!”

As soon as Garrus’ teeth stopped rattling he fired the cannon, not entirely sure what he was firing _at,_ but the place was crawling with so many walking, talking, shooting metal platforms he was bound to hit something.

Shields were down to twenty percent.

_We just need to make it to the relay_.

He laid on the Mako’s machine gun, spraying a radius of bullets. The tank lurched as it rolled over a metal corpse. Shepard hit the thrusters and sent them airborne, literally leaping over the next incoming missile in what had become Shepard’s staple evasion move.

A colossus wobbled into their path. Garrus whipped the Mako’s cannon back around and fired, barely giving the chamber enough time to prime the next shot. The colossus staggered, moving a fraction to the left and giving Shepard just enough room to veer around it, front tire slamming into one of its legs. The monstrosity tipped, head crashing down on the Mako’s roof with legs flailing. One struck the tank, the sharp cleat of its toe scraping glass and sending fracture lines spidering through the windshield.

“Any thoughts on whether or not that’s going to be a problem when dark energy slingshots us through space?” Garrus asked, already back on the machine gun.

“Nope,” Shepard said.

“Me either.”

“Shields down to nine percent,” Alenko reported.

Shepard grit his teeth. “We got this.”

The conduit’s hum filled the cab, reverberating right through Garrus’ carapace until he felt it in his bones, drowning out the whine of pulse rifles and exploding rockets. A streak of energy snapped out from the conduit, lashing them like a noose.

_Here goes nothing._

The archives vanished under a seething envelope of light, and reality took a raincheck.


	52. Arx

Tali found three human bodies at the base of the stairs leading up to what her suit scanners insisted was the Alliance brig.  All three wore Alliance uniforms, but none of them looked like Captain Anderson. Debris filled the stairwell where a rocket had detonated against the wall.

They'd come out to fight. To help. Taken on rocket troopers with nothing more than a pistol, wearing combat fatigues instead of a hardsuit. But that hadn't stopped them from trying.

She stooped next to the nearest corpse, taking a second glance to make sure she hadn't been spotted. But the geth were moving off in the direction of the Presidium Tower.

The dead soldier still had his firearm. The casing was charred, but a quick link up to her suit and a cursory diagnostic told her it still worked. It was a Kessler, hardly the caliber she'd gotten used to on the _Normandy_ , but at least it was something.

All right. She had a gun. Now she needed backup. She squeezed her way around a fallen beam blocking the stairwell, then leaped up the remaining steps once she was clear.

Up here it was quieter, the whine of gunfire and the blunt detonation of geth rockets a distant echo. The cell block was small, maybe six narrow cubicles in all, likely temporary housing while the Alliance figured out what to do with their inhabitants. All were sealed with kinetic barriers, powered by emergency generators. Main power flickered. Red emergency lighting lit up a haze of dust particulates that hung in the air.

"Is anyone here?" she asked, her voice small and tentative but still too loud to her own ears.

She heard a rustling from one of the cells, two down on the left, and then, thank _Keelah,_ a familiar face. Captain Anderson, still trapped in a cell. 

“Who are—” He stopped when he caught sight of her. “Ms. Zorah.”

“Thank goodness,” she said, trying to ignore the thumping in her chest as she searched for the nearest control panel. “Sir, you’re alive. We need to get you out of here.”

The human’s face watched her with a solemn, graven expression. He was a hair taller than Shepard, stiffer, with even broader shoulders and a rounder face, but the turn of his mouth and the glint in his eye looked eerily familiar. Shepard had certainly learned a few things from him, whether he knew it or not.

A twitch in his shoulder and fingers that fidgeted behind his back were the only outward signs of his anxiety. “Is it Saren?”

“I haven’t seen him,” she said, finally finding the access panel she was looking for and hooking her omnitool into the system. Once she had access, deactivating the barrier would be the work of a few keystrokes. “But who else could it be?”

“How did they board the station?” he demanded.

The barrier snapped shut with a hiss and a spark, and Anderson exited his cell, eyes already searching for the nearest weapons locker.

“The relay monument.” When Anderson looked confused, she tilted her head and shrugged. “Turns out it’s not a monument.”

“The conduit.”

She nodded.

“Damn.”

He honed in on the wall behind the guard station, where the weapons locker remained closed and locked. In three quick strides he was there, Tali taking point near the stairs.

“How did you know I was here?” Anderson asked.

“I assumed the Alliance wasn’t in the habit of letting captains who aid and abet mutiny go about their normal duties.”

Anderson grimaced. “Not how I envisioned my career coming to an end. And it seems it might have been too little too late.”

“Not yet.” Tali peered through the smoke, double checking her combat scanner. Three or four shapes moving their direction from the relay monument, but not close enough to pose a threat.

Anderson succeeded in opening the weapons’ locker and tugged a rifle free from its housing.  “Too bad they don’t have hardsuits tucked away in here.”

“How about a shotgun? Tech mines, maybe?”

“No such luck.” He offered her the rifle after checking the ammo block, but she turned it down. The Kessler might not be much to write home about, but it gave her a free hand to use her omnitool, and right now the omnitool kicked harder. 

The station shuddered, floor rolling under Tali’s feet so that she had to grab hold of the desk at the guard station to keep her balance. Anderson looked around with a glare, as though the attack had been a personal insult. Though if it had come at the hands of Saren, in a way it was.

“That didn’t come from inside the station,” he rumbled.  “We’re being attacked from without as well as within. We’ve got to figure out what’s going on out there.”

“C-Sec has ordered a stationwide evacuation.”

Anderson clapped her on the shoulder. “Come on. If we can reach C-Sec maybe we can organize some kind of response.”

Tali shook her head, holding the pistol ready. “You go, sir. I’m making my way back to the relay.”

Anderson’s eyebrow jumped in surprise. “What for?”

“To wait for Shepard.”

His expression softened briefly, smoothing the deep lines of his brow, shoulders that moments ago had been straight and rigid as unrefined platinum showing a hint of slope. “You believe he’ll be here?”

“Of _course_ he’ll be here. And based on the direction the geth are moving, Saren was headed for the Presidium Tower. When you find some backup, that’s where they need to go.”

The station shook once more. Anderson turned back from the stairs to access a working terminal by the guard deck, lips pursed. “The station arms are closing,” he said. His face paled, the lines returning to his forehead with a vengeance.

“The dreadnaught. Sovereign. It’s here.”

~

“Pressly,” Joker said, voice taut and thin as a tripwire, “we have a problem.”

The navigator twisted in his seat, fixing Joker with a glare that could have given Shepard a run for his money. “Don’t you dare give me problems, Joker. I’m having a shitty day.”

“Yeah, well it’s about to get shittier.”

Joker checked his scans for a third time, wondering if they might have magically changed in the last nine seconds. No such luck.

“I’ve pinged the relay three times,” he said.

“So?”

“I’m not getting a response.”

“What the hell do you mean there’s no response?”

“Exactly what I _said_. I can’t establish a connection. The relay’s online but it won’t acknowledge us.”

Pressly exhaled through his nose. Joker could almost hear him mentally counting to ten before opening his mouth. “Chase. Can you contact the Citadel?”

The young serviceman chewed her lip as she worked the comm system. “Son of a bitch,” she muttered.

“Oh, good,” Joker quipped. “I’m not the only one making Pressly’s day shitty.”

“Comm signals _are_ still transmitting through the relays, but Citadel frequencies are jammed,” she reported. “I’m getting a lot of ship-to-ship chatter on emergency channels. Asari. Turians. The _Destiny Ascension_ is ordering an evacuation. They’re…looking for the Council.” She activated the audio feed inside the cockpit, allowing the static, noise, and overlapping voices to filter over the speakers.

The three of them fell silent.

 “Saren,” Pressly murmured.

Joker shook his head. “Worse. Sovereign.”

Chase turned her head, expression stricken. “Did we lose? Did Shepard…”

“We haven’t lost until we’re dead,” Pressly replied, not bothering to look up. “Joker, keep trying to raise the relays. If Sovereign or Saren or _whoever_ has them locked down, we just have to wait for Shepard. And when we hear from him, and we _will_ …we go in guns blazing.”

“A frigate against a monster dreadnaught,” Joker muttered under his breath. “That’ll be a quick fight, at least.”

 _“Hackett to_ Normandy _.”_

 _“Normandy_ here, Admiral,” Pressly replied. “Looks like we might be a little late for our court martialing.”

_“I think we’re tabling that for the moment, Commander. The entire relay network has been shut down. The fleet is waiting in the Exodus cluster but we have no passageway to the Citadel.”_

“Sit tight, Admiral. Shepard’s working on it.”

“ _Shepard is on board the Citadel?”_

“That was the plan, sir. Keep your eye on those relays. When we get our chance we can’t afford to waste it.”

_“Understood. Hackett out.”_

Pressly turned to Joker, a grim smile on his face. “Short fight? With the entire Fifth Fleet at our backs?” Pressly asked. “I don’t think so.”

Joker shook his head. “Damn, Pressly. We might not actually be as screwed as I thought.”

“Plenty of hours left in the day.”

Joker cackled. “Now _that’s_ the Pressly I know and love. So what do we do now?”

“We wait,” Pressly said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “And hope Shepard can do something.”

~

When their surroundings snapped back into alignment it was to the sound of screeching brakes and grinding metal, followed by a violent lurch that skewed Kaidan’s equilibrium until the world was nothing more than a vortex of spinning shapes and adrenaline-chewing momentum. When it all came to an abrupt halt the Mako’s interior lights gave out, swallowing them in darkness. Kaidan forced a breath in through his nose, heart pounding in his throat. A vague sense of gravity tugging at his extremities and a rush of blood to the head told him he was upside down, held in place by his security harness.

He heard a groan, unable for now to place from who or from where, but at least it was something. With a groan of his own he tested his limbs – intact – and reached one arm into the void where Shepard should have been until his fingers brushed an arm. It was limp.

“Shepard.”

 _“Shepard_.” A knot of panic coiled and uncoiled in his gut. He latched on to the commander’s forearm above the wrist. “Commander!”

A grunt. The arm stirred. “Give me a minute,” Shepard muttered, the words coming slow but clear. Kaidan exhaled, alarm ebbing and leaving in its wake something hollow and weary.

“Liara?” Shepard called, voice groggy. “Garrus?”

“Here,” Liara murmured, sounding about as dizzy and disoriented as Kaidan felt. Several long seconds passed before the spar of Garrus’s knee wound up poking Kaidan in the back.

“Shepard,” the turian managed, flange in his subvocals sounding more like a broken air circulator. “This time…think you finally managed to bust the tank.”   

A loud thump echoed from the back of the ruined Mako, followed by an irritated growl. Wrex had managed to free himself from the harness. “No one’s asking if I’m still here.”

“You’re a krogan, Wrex,” Shepard said. Kaidan heard a click, followed by an ungraceful thunk and a swear as Shepard undid his restraints and landed on the Mako’s roof in a heap. “We knew you were still here.”

The catch on Kaidan’s seat restraint had jammed. He activated his omnitool and flash fabricated a knife, which he used to slice through the strap. When he finally dropped he landed with about as much grace as Shepard. After finding his bearings he looked up to find himself face to face with an upside-down Garrus.

“Any idea where we are?” the turian asked.

Kaidan used the knife to cut him free while Shepard aided Liara. “Not yet. But it’s going to be a job finding out if we can’t get out of here. He pointed to the hatch. It was currently under his feet.

Something landed on the roof, rocking the tank just enough that Kaidan lost his balance. Garrus managed to grab him before he fell and pull out his rifle in the same movement. Kaidan’s helmet comm crackled to life. Squad frequency.

“ _Shepard?”_

The commander chuckled in disbelief. “Tali. Is that you?”

“ _Stand clear.”_

Garrus looked around him. “I hope ducking will be sufficient.”

The Mako’s floorboards, currently serving as the tank’s roof, glowed red. Kaidan flattened himself to the side as the metal seethed and groaned before a loud pop sent a shower of superheated polymers raining down on their heads. Dim, smoky light filtered through the newly made hole, along with the silhouette of a quarian hood. Tali reached one hand inside. Shepard grabbed it.

“Miss me?” she asked.

“You have _no_ idea.”Shepard hoisted himself up and out of the tank, then reached for Liara. One by one they worked themselves free.

“What the hell,” Kaidan murmured as he dropped to the ground and got a good look around him. They’d landed at the feet of the relay monument, on a bridge spanning both sides of the Presidium. The blaring sound of emergency klaxons echoed throughout. On the far side of the bridge a damaged projection of Avina calmly urged residents to evacuate. The shining walkways lay buried under piles of fresh, smoking rubble. Trees studding the central greenway burned like torches, and the artificial blue sky had taken on the color of brittle rust.

All of that was a lot to take in. But when his eyes fell upon the towering metal spikes it felt like someone had punched the air right out of his lungs.

Jenkins. Ashley.

“Shepard,” he said sharply. “Look.”

Shepard turned away from Liara and followed Kaidan’s gaze. He didn’t need to see the commander’s expression. Shepard’ entire body shifted, like a missile finding target lock, the rifle in his hands now in restless search of something to shoot.

“Husks,” Liara said softly. “They’re not just here to take over the station. They’re creating shock troops.”

“We can’t stay here,” Tali said. “The geth have been coming through the relay at regular intervals.”

“And there were more behind us,” Shepard confirmed. “Though we may have managed to slow them down. Where’s Saren?”

Kaidan caught movement out of the corner of his eye, near the Avina terminal. His corona flared to life as Garrus’ sniper rifle cracked. A geth’s dissonant squeal followed.

“Dammit, they see us,” Tali said under her breath.

More movement. Garrus’ rifle popped again. Wrex snarled, shoving his way past them, glaring white barrier leaving a burn on Kaidan’s retinas. A geth rocket detonated, followed by a krogan roar. 

“I think Saren headed for the Tower,” Tali said. “Anderson is trying to rally some help and meet us there, but it might take him some time.”

“Anderson’s alive?”

Tali nodded. Kaidan caught the catch of relief in his voice, as well as the speed and intensity with which Liara’s gaze found the commander.  

“What’s the situation?” Shepard demanded.

“He’s closed the station’s arms,” Tali said. “Shepard, Sovereign’s _here_. I mean _here_ , here. Inside the arms. Even if the fleet is out there, they can’t target it.”

“Then we need to get the arms open. Best route to the Tower?” 

“Elevator access is just ahead to the left,” Garrus supplied.

Shepard was already in motion, Liara behind him, the energy from her barrier silhouetting her lithe frame with flickers of white. Tali fell into step beside Kaidan, with Garrus bringing up the rear.

“Tali, didn’t I promise you’d be here for this?” Garrus asked.

Tali tilted her head. “Yes, you did. But you’ll forgive me if I didn’t wait around for you to show up.”

“I’m pretty sure the Citadel wouldn’t still _be_ here if you had.”

Kaidan’s eyes fell on the pistol Tali carried in her hand. “Tali, do you need a better gun than that?”

She held the pistol up and sighed longingly. “Don’t suppose any of you have an extra shotgun? This is the best I could find.”

Shepard retrieved his from the lumbar holster at his back and handed it to her without breaking stride. “Here. Though it seems like you were doing pretty well with an omnitool and a pistol. How the hell did you cut through that tank, anyway?”

“Thermite,” she replied. “I rigged my omnitool to deploy it in a concentrated burst.”

Shepard chuckled. “You know, when someone asks me later, I’m going to tell them that I left you behind on purpose to save our asses when we showed back up.”

Tali patted him on the shoulder as Liara snagged a geth trooper that had gotten too close and hurled it through the glass window of a shop. “Don’t worry, Shepard. If we tried to tell everyone that half the time the only reason you pulled off something insane was because of sheer luck, no one would believe us.”

The thing was, Kaidan thought, Shepard didn’t need luck. He made his own. Because if the first solution didn’t work he just came up with something else, until he found something that did.

Which was good, because Kaidan had a feeling they were going to need a little bull-headed creativity before this was over.   

They rounded the corner only to walk into an ambush of husks. Open mouthed, shambling, the synthetic weave of their fingers groping for something to gouge, blue lights gleaming through the shredded remains of their uniforms.

Alliance uniforms.

Wrex backhanded two and sent them sprawling. The air around Kaidan hummed, crackle of energy building up around him. He inhaled deep, swallowing back the heat of his anger and instead siphoning it like fuel.

_Don’t worry, Ash. I got this._

He let loose with a salvo she would have been proud of.  

~

It took Tali the work of a few minutes to bring the Presidium Tower elevators online. A pile of husks and shattered geth smoked at their feet, one carapace still crushed under the heavily armored foot of a krogan. The smell of fried circuitry filtered through Shepard’s suit so strong his eyes watered.

He checked his heat sinks. At this rate they might actually need to refill their ammo blocks.

The elevator doors creaked open for them to cram inside. Shepard strangled back a sudden urge to laugh as Wrex trodded on his boot in an effort to fit. It was almost like the start of a bad joke. _A turian, a krogan, a quarian, an asari and two humans walk into an elevator._

One that smelled like sweat and adrenaline mixed with angry krogan battlemaster and the burnt tang of eezo.

It had been a _really_ long day. And it was going to get longer.

Especially when the elevator ground to a halt halfway to their destination.

“What happened?” Shepard demanded. Tali already had an access panel open, swearing profusely in untranslated quarian. “Power’s been cut from the source.”

“The Tower?”

“Sorry, Commander.”

Shepard drew in a deep breath and pulled out his sidearm. “Everyone’s helmet seals secure?”

“Shepard,” Alenko started, “are you…”

Before he could finish Shepard fired four quick shots into the glass enclosure, one ricocheting off Garrus’ shields with a ripple of blue. Fracture lines snaked away from the impact craters, then split and shattered when Shepard slammed his boot against them.

“Okay,” Kaidan sighed as the elevator depressurized, suits whirring as their boots automatically clamped hard against the floor to anchor them against the sharp suck of air. “That’s what I thought you were going to do.”

“We’re walking,” Shepard informed them, then gingerly maneuvered out of the elevator, bracing himself for the abrupt shift in his equilibrium as the magnetic seals in his boots gripped onto the elevator bulkhead. What moments ago had been a wall suddenly became the floor, and despite the rigorous Special Forces antigrav training Shepard had been exposed to throughout the N program, it took a moment to realign his bearings.

The long shaft of the Citadel Tower rose above and below him. No trace of the blue-lit gas of Serpent Nebula slipped through the tightly sealed wings of the Wards. Dazzling light from the rising towers and busy neighborhoods flickered and gleamed, broken by spots of disturbing darkness where power had been lost.

Hopefully it didn’t include life support systems.

The Citadel’s mass effect fields preserved some form of atmosphere even out here, but it was dangerously thin. Liara gripped his arm as she tried to find her balance, her breathing heavy over the comm. Shepard’s arm slipped behind her back, holding her steady until she could get a handle on her disorientation.

“Give it a minute,” he told her. “You’re ok. Just have to give your body a minute to adjust.”

The first time he’d experienced zero G outside of a drill was on his first tour. He’d been posted on the _Tokyo_ and they’d clashed with a band of pirates trying to raid Fehl Prime. As soon as the batarians opened fire, A-grav went off to conserve heat and Shepard gained a new understanding for just how helpful it was to have blue ceilings and green floors.

Shepard squeezed Liara’s hand. He wasn’t sure she could even tell through the bulk of his gauntlets, but her breathing eased just a touch.

“Don’t look around too much, no matter how tempting the view. Focus on the destination. And try not to think too hard about which way _should_ be up, because right now ‘up’ is whatever we need it to be.”

She nodded. Shepard glanced around to check the others. Tali and Garrus didn’t appear the slightest bit fazed, though with their backgrounds that didn’t exactly surprise him. Hard to tell with the krogan – his helmet was too opaque to see his expression, but his grip on his shotgun remained sure and steady. Though Shepard didn’t think anything would change that – including death. If Alenko had been bothered by the abrupt change in mission parameters, he’d already worked through it.

“Everyone ready?” Shepard called out.

He got a chorus of confirmations across the comm. Out here it was impossible to hear anything that wasn’t filtered through the helmet. Silence swallowed them up on all sides, nothing to be heard but the sound of their own ragged breathing.

Shepard set his sights on the top floor of the tower, and began to walk.

~

Zero gravity firefights on the Citadel were not something Garrus had even really fantasized about when working for C-Sec. Yet it was now something he could officially check off his list.

Though, ‘on’ the Citadel was now a mere technicality.

The disorienting part was not so much the distorted sense of space, the abrupt rearrangement of his internal gyroscope, but the soundless recoil of his rifle. The silent sparks erupting from a geth carapace when a slug punched through its shields and scored a critical hit. The open-mouthed roar of a charging krogan that fell upon deaf ears. Visual stimuli painted the inverted battlefield with enough visceral noise to give him a headache, but the muted calm between his ears took some getting used to. Like every turian the military had been part of his life since he turned sixteen, but small arms combat had comprised a rather small part of their all their zero G drills.

The topography of the tower’s outer hide helped a little. Rather than traveling a smooth, unbroken radius all the way to the top, they found themselves confronted by a complicated maze of control junctions, hydraulics, reams of exposed cabling and even keeper access maintenance corridors.

Garrus flashed a somewhat guilty look back at one of the squat green insectoids still tumbling out into the celestial waters behind them.

Up ahead of them, a geth dreadnaught trapped inside the station’s arms prepared to offload troops. Just to make things more fun.

Shepard honed in on a few automated defense turrets that Tali had identified along the Tower’s spine, leading them away from the elevator shaft and deeper into the maze, where they at least had some usable cover. Garrus vaguely remembered some lecture from his C-Sec training about those turrets, but he couldn’t recall a single instance in which they’d ever even been fired. And according to Tali they weren’t firing now. Someone had deactivated them.

Well, not for long. That drop ship wasn’t going anywhere unless they did something about it.

Another round of bullets refracted off his shields, its silent arrival taking nothing away from the teeth-rattling force of impact. Garrus absorbed it with a grunt, praying it wasn’t too much for the emitters to bleed off, and fired off another round of his rifle. Avoiding enemy fire was a lot harder when one wrong step would send you spinning off into space. As the keeper could attest.

At least they were better at keeping their feet on the ground than krogan, who apparently hadn’t _all_ been nuked on Virmire. The only one happy about that development was Wrex, who ignored every single geth trying to shoot a rocket at him in favor of the tank-bred bulldozers racing along the Tower’s exterior.

Turns out that when indoctrinated krogan try to charge a Battlemaster in zero G, the Battlemaster wins. Every time.

The latest one sailed past Garrus’ head, one giant hand flailing in an effort to grab onto the part of Garrus’ helmet that covered his crest. ‘Cresting’ was a traditional krogan method of brutality, an instinct apparently so ingrained by their creator that these half-witted clones didn’t even care there was a helmet in the way. Or that they were currently floating off structure with no hope of recovery.

“Liara!” Alenko called out. “Trooper on your left!”

“I see it,” she called back, and the game the lieutenant and doctor had started playing – levitate the geth high enough for Alenko to kick it out into space – continued. They were getting really good at it.

The terrain around the defense towers consisted of raised bulkheads and sunken trenches to allow safer passage to and from. Shepard laid down cover fire on the latest round of geth while Tali and Alenko ascended the closest one, searching for a control box. The geth drop ship continued to unload some artillery of its own, which only complicated things further.

But that wasn’t what had Garrus’ attention.

The moment they had reached the defense towers, a strange silhouette crested the horizon. Its thick, massive synthetic limbs occasionally rose and fell, their impact against the structure strong enough that Garrus could feel it under his feet even if he couldn’t hear it.

It wasn’t just _here_. It had anchored itself to the tower itself – its giant maw clamped down on the tower’s peak while the legs maneuvered for purchase.

Spirits. It was _huge_.

A rocket from one of the destroyers detonated on the other side of the bulkhead Garrus and Shepard now crouched behind. Wrex bellowed – that sound at least traveled over the comm – and charged after it, wrangling the rocket launcher off its back and then firing it point blank into the geth’s chest, which erupted in a hailstorm of silent shrapnel.

“Tali, how’re those turrets coming?” Shepard barked.

“It’s a little hard to concentrate when you’re being fired on by a dropship!”

“We could try launching the angry krogan at it,” Garrus suggested.

“Don’t tempt me.” Shepard rose out of cover to fire his assault rifle. The muzzle blazed with light, the accompanying blare of sound lost out in the vacuum.

Garrus fired his sniper rifle at a destroyer, a maddening lick off the mark. Apparently he relied on the sound of its familiar crack more than he thought to find his rhythm. Here he had to adapt and find it solely through the weapon’s kick. Same beat, different lyrics.

As he reloaded the rifle the destroyer locked its aim on Tali. Garrus’ heart dropped to his feet. He swung the barrel of the gun to keep up, _damn_ those things were fast when they charged, targeting software straining to find a new lock. “Tali, on your three!”

Shepard launched out of cover, rifle firing, pausing only long enough to lob a grenade. It detonated in a shower of sparks. The destroyer turned just as Garrus fired, shot once again glancing off its shields emitters.

“Shepard!”

The destroyer charged, barreling right into Shepard with bone shattering force. The commander spun, his grunt of pain sharp even over the comm, boots losing their grip on the tower.

Garrus fired, this time hitting his mark, slug finding its home right in the orb of the AI’s glowing face. He didn’t take time to gloat, leaping off his perch and flinging a hand out to grab Shepard’s boot.

“Fuck,” Shepard said. The moment his left foot touched down he grimaced and hopped, hissing through his teeth. “That was close.”

“You all right?”

Shepard glanced down at his hardsuit, eyes flicking back and forth as data scrolled across his HUD.

“Fine,” he said after a moment, tone clipped. He tested his weight again, one hand braced against his left hip, and grimaced. Behind them Wrex bellowed and barreled into two troopers trying to flank.

“Shepard?”

“It’s fine.” He swiveled his gaze back toward the turrets. “Got to get those things online and get rid of this dreadnaught.”

As if the turrets listened, they began powering on. Out of the corner of his eyes a bright orange flash accompanied the sudden shudder that swept under his feet. The shields of the dreadnaught glowed bright under the unexpected salvo.

One by one the other turrets came online, four in all, each one painting the geth ship’s hull. Alenko shouted something victorious over the comm. Minutes later Tali dropped in beside Garrus, shotgun back in hand.

“Nice work,” Shepard told her.

The geth ship shuddered, thrusters flashing as it tried to back away from the unexpected threat, then a blaze of light seared Garrus’ retinas as the drive core exploded, raining molten shrapnel down on their heads. Liara threw out her hands, dark energy uncoiling with an electric shimmer, creating a shield around them that deflected the debris. Garrus winced as one flaming piece of metal headed straight for his crest bounced harmlessly off the churning barrier.

“You’re a goddess, Liara,” he called out.

Shepard pushed to his feet and moved out the moment it was clear. His gait stuttered at first, but quickly became fluid and sure. “We need to find a hatch that’ll get us back into the shaft.”

“Preferably in a location that _doesn’t_ involve playing talon touch with the giant reaper,” Garrus replied.

Wrex’s armored head appeared from behind a bulkhead a little farther up, covered in the silken slime of geth conductive fluid. Garrus expected an insult but instead the krogan roared, thundering towards him. Too late Garrus felt a violent strike against his back, followed by the sickening sensation of his feet losing their grip on the ground.

Oh _no._

A hand snagged his leg spar, yanking him back down. His boots clamped back down on the deck with a thud. He gasped, then found himself face to face with Wrex’s helmet.

“You missed one,” the krogan growled, gesturing to a downed destroyer now sparking at Wrex’s feet.

“Thanks,” Garrus managed.

“Shepard!” Alenko hollered. “I think I have a way in!”

The commander paused just long enough to catch Garrus’ eye through his faceplate, nodding in satisfaction. “Stick around, Garrus. Things are about to get interesting.”

Garrus risked one last glance up into the incandescent light of the Ward arms, resolutely blocking out the cold curtain of space that lurked outside. A breathtaking view he never wanted to see again.

Yeah. Things were about to get interesting.

 

 


	53. Regnator

Warning klaxons droned through the black smoke and burning refuse of the Council Chambers. Shepard peered around a bulkhead, rifle in hand, shifting his weight uncomfortably off of his left hip.

Smears of soot tarnished the silver pathways. One of the red blossomed trees lay uprooted across a crosswalk, fire licking at the polished wood. Bodies of Tower dignitaries marred the anteroom, their expensive clothing stained with blood and cinders.

A handful of geth took notice of their approach. Liara kicked one back with a biotic heave that sent a warm current slithering through the air. Garrus knocked another flat with a slug from his rifle. Alenko hoisted a third off the ground with a lash of blue energy, then yanked. Wrex was waiting when it landed.

Shepard didn’t need a combat scanner or a map to tell him where Saren would be. There was a certain irony in it if he thought about it too hard. He scrambled around the fallen tree and up the stairs behind it, sights set on the dais where the Council had made him a Spectre.

A grenade bounced near his feet, sending him diving for cover below a railing. In the corner of his eye he saw Alenko’s corona flare bright as his barrier engaged to shield himself from the ensuing explosion, throwing his body over Tali in the process. Shepard slammed his back against the wall as heat washed past him, weapon held to his chest. Liara skidded in beside him. He couldn’t see Wrex and Garrus, but their transponders still appeared on his HUD.  

Footsteps crunched across the scattered debris, coming to a halt still a safe distance away.

“Shepard.” 

Saren’s voice grated Shepard’s marrow. In his mind he recalled the faint tang of salt in his nose, the sickening sway of gravity as the turian’s hand clamped down on his throat and dangled him over the precipice. The number atrophy in the lower corner of his HUD.  

“You left our chat on Virmire a little early,” Shepard called out. “I’m here to finish it.”

The turian – or what remained of the turian – chuckled, the sound like air pushing through a damaged circulator.

“You’ve lost. You know that, don’t you?”

Shepard shifted his body against the wall, trying to get his feet back under him, wincing as he torqued his hip. Beside him the air canted as Liara called an orb of biotic energy into her palm. Across the stairwell he caught sight of Alenko, and the dim glow of Tali’s omnitool, out and active. 

He grunted. “If I’m still breathing, I’m not done.”

“In a few minutes your life won’t matter,” Saren replied. “I’ve started the upload. When it’s finished, Sovereign will have control.”

Shepard chanced a swift glance around the stairs, narrowly avoiding Saren’s waiting bullet as it whistled past. But the risk had told him what he needed to know – he had four geth at his back. Two troopers, a destroyer, and because they never caught a break, a juggernaut.

Not to mention Saren himself. The metallic gleam of synthetics dwarfed what little remained of the actual turian. Back on Virmire his…upgrades had not exactly been subtle, but what Shepard saw now sent shivers down his spine. Thick reams of cabling protruded from Saren’s abdomen, so much now that he’d had to modify his armor to accommodate them. His remaining good arm now sported a mechanized gauntlet in place of his talons. The ice blue glow in his eyes reminded Shepard eerily of the husks, even more so than when Saren had him suspended over that ledge.

Across from him, Tali still worked her omnitool. Shepard’s HUD pinged with a message.

_wait for my mark_

“You’re a Spectre, Saren,” Shepard yelled. “That used to mean something.”

“It still _does_!” Saren bellowed. “You don’t get it, do you? I am not the enemy here, Shepard, and everything you do to hinder me brings us one step closer to extinction.”

“You’re the one with a finger on the bomb,” Shepard retorted. “And the one who can stop it. Stop _them_. Before it’s too late.”

“It’s the only way,” Saren hissed. “You don’t know their numbers. You don’t know their power! We’ll lose billions, yes. But that’s unavoidable. They can die for nothing, or they can die to save the rest.”

“The rest of _what_? You think the reapers are going to let you live? Let any of us live? It’s a lie, Saren. They’ll indoctrinate us. Enslave us. We’ll lose everything we are and commit atrocities to justify it. Just like you’re doing right now! You’re giving them to knife they need to stab us in the back. But it’s not too late. There’s still time. Stop the damn upload!”

Saren paused. Brief, but unmistakable.

“The protheans resisted,” Saren answered. “With all of their technology. All of their knowledge! And they were destroyed.  We already know the outcome. This is our _one_ chance to change it. The reapers need organics. They _need_ us. A union of organics and synthetics is the only answer!”

Shepard slammed his head against the wall in frustration, helmet rattling. “Oh, _come_ on! Benezia was able to shake Sovereign off long enough to do the right thing. You were great, once. The Council called you a hero. They put the weight of the galaxy on your shoulders because they believed _you_ were strong enough! So do your damn job and _hold it up_!”

Shepard’s HUD pinged. Up on the dais, one of the geth opened fire.

On Saren.

Shepard had already banked the corner and made the stairs when the crack of Garrus’ rifle mingled with the distorted rush of air as Liara loosed a salvo of dark energy. Wrex appeared from Shepard’s right, bellowing a war cry as he charged at the stuttering juggernaut.

A geth– the destroyer – lurched in Shepard’s direction before turning on the trooper Tali had managed to hack. Alenko lobbed tech mines, creating a curtain of electricity that shorted out shields and overheated weapons with an ear-splitting crackle that crawled over Shepard’s skin. His own shields shrieked in protest as the emitters overloaded. No time to stow his rifle. He dropped it to the floor and lunged, tackling Saren to the ground. The turian landed on his unprotected crest and cried out in pain. Shepard slammed the heel of his palm into Saren’s jaw, exhaling when he went limp. 

“Alenko! Control panel!”

Alenko sprinted past him, fumbling with his omnitool to create a connection and upload Vigil’s data, Tali hot on his heels.

The shadow of a geth fell over Shepard’s shoulders.

 _Crack_.

Garrus never missed.

The geth froze, just long enough for Wrex to close the remaining distance. Shepard glimpsed a writhing blue storm brewing around his fist that exploded like a star when it hit the geth’s carapace. Moments later a krogan hand reached down to help Shepard up. Wrex had torn off his helmet at some point in the skirmish, and his red eyes gleamed bright and feverish. Liara came half a step behind, breathless.

“Watch that,” Shepard muttered, pointing to Saren with one hand and clapping the krogan on the shoulder with the other. “I want him alive.”

Without a backwards glance he hurried to Alenko, hopping in pain as weight loaded through his left leg. The lieutenant stood with his hands over the control panel, data flashing across the screen.

“Talk to me,” Shepard said.

“Vigil’s data worked,” Alenko said, voice clipped. “I’ve got control. But I don’t know for how long. There’s still an active uplink to Sovereign. I can’t figure out how to shut it off.”

“Open the arms. Find me an open comm to Joker. Where’s the fleet?”

Alenko exhaled, momentarily fogging his faceplate. His fingers raced, so fast Shepard almost couldn’t keep up.

“I’ve got comms.”

“Give me a sitrep, Lieutenant!”

“Working on it. It’s chaos out there. I’m trying to patch through Alliance protocols, but it’s going to take a minute.”

“We don’t _have_ a minute.”

“I know.” Alenko’s shoulders hunched, blood pressure and heart rate jumping on his bioreadings. “Trying to log into the central comm tower to raise the _Normandy_.”

Shepard glanced at Wrex, who had his shotgun trained on Saren’s forehead. The krogan growled.

“He’s twitchy. Whatever tech Sovereign has jammed in his skull is still kicking.”

“Watch him.”

Wrex glared. “No kidding.”

“Shepard!” Alenko interrupted. “I think I’ve got something. Citadel Tower to _SSV Normandy_. _Normandy,_ respond!”

Static. Shepard’s fists clenched.

“ _Citadel Tower, this is SSV Normandy. Alenko, is that you?”_

A grim smile passed Shepard’s lips. He knew they’d find a way. “Joker! What’s your status?”

“ _Shepard? The geth are everywhere. Relays are shut down. Destiny Ascension is under fire and broadcasting an all points distress signal. They’ve got the Council on board_. _We’re camped out in Horsehead waiting on you! The entire Fifth Fleet is in Exodus. Open the relays and we’ll send in the cavalry_.”

“Shepard,” Garrus said, approaching the dais, sniper rifle still in hand. “If you open the relays now with the arms still closed, you’re throwing ships at the geth you could be throwing at Sovereign.”

Alenko spared an angry glance over his shoulder. “There are ten thousand people – _and_ the Council – on the _Destiny Ascension_. We can’t just let them die!”

Garrus pointed out one of the glass observation windows surrounding the atrium at the giant, looming limb of Sovereign right outside. “Ten thousand lives won’t mean much if Sovereign succeeds.”

Shepard’s gaze drifted over to the limp form of Saren, briefly trying to overlay the turian who had earned the trust of the Council with the thing at Wrex’s feet.

 _(Isn’t that the kind of thinking that led Saren astray?)_  

“Open the relays,” he said, turning back to his comm before Garrus could speak. “Joker? Do what you can for the _Ascension_. Soon as we get the Ward arms open unleash hell.”

“ _Yes, sir.”_

“I need a minute,” Alenko said through gritted teeth. “I’ve never taken control of the Citadel before, and either Saren or Sovereign itself are still trying to bypass the failsafes. Tali…this should probably be you.”

Tali shook her head. “You got the data. You’re in the system. I’d lose too much time just trying to catch up to speed. You can do this, Kaidan.”

Out of the corner of Shepard’s eye something moved. Wrex’s corona shimmered, but didn’t fully come to life before reams of electricity engulfed Saren’s body like coils of writhing snakes.  Wrex roared, entire body seizing as the current snaked from Saren right up through the krogan’s limbs. Before Shepard could react the turian leapt to his feet, cold blue eyes locked on Alenko.

Shepard lunged, throwing his body at Saren before he could get the chance to find a gun. Unlike the first time, Saren was ready for him, managing half a step to the side and using Shepard’s momentum as leverage. But somehow Shepard managed to grab him by the arm and yank. The two of them hit the ground and rolled, sliding across the dais.

“ _Shepard!”_

They both careened over the edge, crashing through the glass-sealed atrium yawning below.

~

The _Normandy_ shot through the relay under Joker’s steady hands, a swath of hot dust and radioactive particles smothering the shutters with blue-lit gas.

Joker wasn’t looking at the shutters. All he’d find was a cocoon of stillness and silence. But the ship’s sensors were alive with heat – a chaotic hail of ordinance and high velocity projectiles tearing across the vacuum, with no gravity or air resistance to stop or even slow them down.

Just a target. Whether they reached their intended target was irrelevant. Every quantum torpedo loosed in the melee would eventually find _something_ to hit.

Newton’s first law was a bitch.

Ladar identified dozens of enemy vessels, from bombers and frigates that darted swiftly in and out of attack lanes to the slower, sluggish cruisers and dreadnaughts anchored all around the tightly sealed cylinder of the Citadel. 

Alliance transponders winked into existence around the relay like tiny stars, the overwhelming task of dispatching so many ships at once creating staggering amounts of drift. The smaller, more maneuverable vessels immediately dispatched to cover the flank of the _Everest,_ the kilometer long dreadnaught Hackett presided over with a proportionate main gun that made the Hiroshima bomb seem like a tea party, complete with princess hats.

Against the geth, it might not be enough.

Fighters launched in droves, streaking towards the geth onslaught as the bow guns of cruisers sounded off in rhythmic patterns. Light on light, heat spike upon heat spike, a carefully but brutally coordinated clash of ordinance playing out in energy pings and return signals.

“Damn,” Pressly murmured, looking at their scans.

The _Destiny Ascension_ registered on sensors as a collection of kinetic fields and venting coolant, surrounded by geth fighters and frigate transponders that had driven past the turians’ hasty blockade. That close her main gun was useless against the agile craft eating away at her barriers, leaving her vulnerable to the geth dreadnaughts firing from range.

Hackett had diverted _Shenyang_ , _Jakarta_ and _Cape Town_ to do something about the dreadnaughts. Joker intended to do something about the rest.

“Have no fear, cavalry is here,” Joker replied. “ _Normandy_ to Admiral Hackett. If you can give me some cover fire from those cruisers I’ll put some hurt on the frigates.”

“ _Acknowledged,_ Normandy _. Do what you can to save the_ Ascension _.”_

Joker skipped the _Normandy_ in and out of enemy sight lines, painting targets and lashing out with disrupter torpedoes to shred kinetic barriers in preparation for the Alliance wolf packs closing in their wake.

Pressly’s posture tightened as Joker skimmed the ship closer, diving into a crossfire of disruptor torpedoes less than ten kilometers off the _Ascension’s_ hull. “Joker, what the hell are you doing?”

“Taking the GUARDIAN lasers for a stroll,” he said through gritted teeth.    

The hull shuddered. The tactical scanner became a blaze of heat as the defense systems erupted, shearing lasers identifying fighters that got too close slicing them open at the speed of light.  Several enemy transponders vanished off ladar.

“I’m reading two frigates still engaged with the _Ascension,”_ Pressly reported. “Her barriers are down to twenty nine percent.”

“How do you feel about a knife fight, old man?”

“Torpedoes armed and ready.”

Flight Lieutenant Jeff ‘Joker’ Moreau, with a skeleton made of balsa wood and fractured glass, performed a waltz on limbs of steel.

~

Garrus and Liara scrambled for the edge of the dais, eyes locked on whatever lay below the broken edges, Liara shouting Shepard’s name. At the sound of the commander’s plunge Alenko jumped like he’d been shot, but to his credit kept working at the terminal. Tali took one step towards them before Wrex’s hand fell on her arm.

“Geth,” he rumbled, nodding back in the direction they’d come from. He didn’t need a combat scanner to pick them out. In the absence of a living scent, he’d learned to pick out the traces of oil. Lubricant. Conductive fluid they called blood. To others it might blend right in with the rest of the station hydraulics and machinery.  

Not to Wrex.

There had been no time to seal the elevator behind them, and even if they had it wouldn’t have taken long for the enemy to breach it.

“Shepard!” Garrus yelled, perched along the jagged edge of shattered glass.

Tali’s breath rattled over her vocal emitters as she looked from Wrex to the hole in the floor. The krogan’s red eyes glinted. “Alenko needs time to open the arms.”

“Saren is still in the system,” she protested. “We have to stop him.”

“They will,” Wrex growled, dipping his head and focusing on her with his right eye. “We need to do _this_.”

After only a brief hesitation she nodded, exhaling loud and slow. “Garrus,” she called out. “You two go. We’ll cover Alenko.”

Liara’s barrier flared bright as she leapt into the abyss. Garrus cast one last look over his shoulder. “Good luck.”

He disappeared off the edge after her.

Wrex had already turned away, eyes locked on the advancing geth, their mechanical concordance chiming in his ears. A round of pulse rifle fire echoed inside the chamber, bouncing off of Wrex’s barrier as it flamed to life. “How much time do you need?” he called out through a writhing corona of dark energy.

“Don’t know,” the human replied, voice strained. “I’m trying to open the arms and set up blocks to keep Sovereign from getting control. Just…give me whatever you can.”

A long, slow grin rippled across Wrex’s lips. “My pleasure.”

~

Shepard’s HUD screamed out a warning as he plunged, altimeter registering a twelve meter drop that ended with a bone-jarring thud. An explosion of pain radiated out from his left hip, enough to blot his vision. His assault rifle bounced out of his hands and landed a meter or so away as another shape came crashing down between.  

 _Saren_.

The turian bounded away like a cat before Shepard could gather himself, the eerie blue glow of his implants lighting up the shadows before becoming lost within them. Shepard tried to get to his feet, then groaned and clutched his hip.

The rifle lay out of reach. Giving up his shotgun to Tali left him with a pistol and a sniper. Neither of which he’d prefer right about now. Of course, he’d also prefer to not fight a mad turian Spectre from a heap on the ground.

Where the hell _was_ he?

Primary power to the room was offline, but emergency illumination cast bizarre shadows across the open space. In the distance he could see the hazy blue gas of Serpent Nebula drifting past broad, tall viewing panes. It was enough light to make out slender trees covered in pale, white bark that stood like ghostly sentinels. Rose colored blossoms framed their canopies, not all that dissimilar from the trees planted in the tower. A small ribbon of water wove through them, skirting around low-set bushes that clung to rocks like moss, their odd-shaped leaves so perfectly sculpted they might have been carved by hand.

An arboretum?

Something – _someone -_ landed softly behind him. Shepard twisted, bringing up his pistol with a wince. 

“Shepard,” she gasped as he lowered the barrel with a sigh of relief. “Are you all right?”

“I’ve been better.”

Seconds later another body dropped, without the grace afforded by Liara’s biotics. “Spirits, that drop is longer than it looks,” Garrus muttered as he dusted himself off.

“At least you landed in once piece,” Shepard replied.

Liara threaded an arm behind Shepard’s back, hooking under his shoulder to help him to his feet. A shot of white-hot pain raced through his body when he tried to put weight through his left hip.

“Dammit,” he swore.

“Where’s Saren?” Garrus asked.

A slug whizzed out of the murk and struck Shepard in the chest, the kinetic energy dissipating across his shields with a ripple. Liara flung out the hand not holding Shepard up, a wall of dark energy blooming into existence in the shape of a concave shield.  

“There he is,” Garrus quipped, already sighting down his scope. Through the cover of the trees something moved. The thick foliage smothered the crack of Garrus’ rifle, but Shepard saw a small flicker of blue where it struck Saren’s shields.

With Liara’s help, Shepard limped to a small grove of trees, these with pale gold foliage that glimmered in the dim light. The scent rolling off the blossoms was sweet to the point of cloying.

“I need my rifle,” he muttered.

Garrus retrieved it and tossed it to him, eyes still roving for Saren. “Shepard, at this range my visor should be able to pick him up. But I can’t…see him. I’m getting a lot of scatter interference. I can’t see _anything_.”

“Sovereign must have plugged in a few ECM toys for him to use,” Shepard said, planting his back against a decorative rock that shouldered a small trickle of water into a pond, rifle clutched in his hands. Liara kneeled next to him, her anxiety clear even behind her faceplate.

“Shepard, we need to get you out of here,” Liara said.

The pain in Shepard’s hip felt alive, chewing at him with teeth sharp as knives. He sucked air through his teeth. “Not until he’s dead.” 

“You’re wounded, Shepard,” a voice echoed. “Fragile flesh and blood, defeated by a simple fall.”

Dark energy welled in Liara’s palm, filling the air with an almost palpable charge. Shepard closed his eyes, resisting the urge to lean out of cover and fire blind. _Wait. Draw him out._  

“I’m not finished yet,” he rasped.

“I told you the way out was to join _with_ Sovereign,” Saren replied. “Together we can strengthen each other. Transcendence, Shepard. It doesn’t have to end in destruction. There can be a synthesis.”

“Garrus,” Shepard said under his breath. “Can you find a perch in one of those trees?”

“On it,” the turian muttered, and took off into the murk.

“Those are your implants talking, Saren,” Shepard called out. “Because you’re chalk full of them, aren’t you? How many of them were your idea? How many of them do you even remember?”

Somewhere to his left he heard a dry chuckle. Shepard signaled for Liara to slide out of the way as he inched farther down the rock, seeking for some kind of vantage point. Moving to a new location wasn’t much of an option. The stabbing pain in his hip would not relent.

“Doubt is for the weak,” Saren answered. “I trust in Sovereign’s decisions. With its…upgrades, I’m stronger than you. Faster. _Better_. As we speak it is slowly infiltrating the Citadel’s systems. It’s only a matter of time before it regains control. Whatever time the protheans bought you is about to run out.”

“I dunno,” Shepard shot back. “The same guy who stopped you from blowing up Eden Prime and succeeded in blowing up Virmire is at the controls up there, and right now I like his track record better than yours.”

Saren snarled. From somewhere above them, Garrus fired. Liara gasped as a shape hurtled over the rocks with devastating speed. Saren grabbed Shepard by the throat, dragging him out of his cover and into the open. Shepard gagged, assault rifle dropping from his hands as his fingers clawed against the turian’s iron grip, the structural integrity of his hardsuit fracturing under the pressure.

Saren’s entire body crackled with skeins of red energy, popping and snapping like an electrical storm. His eyes, such a cold, unfeeling blue just minutes ago on the dais, flashed like garnets. When he spoke, the voice that boomed from his throat wasn’t the turian’s. Instead it bore the same deep, sepulchral thunder Shepard remembered all too clearly from Virmire, and the collation of red light in the shape of a ship that wasn’t a ship.

_“YOUR INTERFERENCE WILL NO LONGER BE TOLERATED.”_

Saren (Sovereign?) hurled Shepard with terrifying strength. The thick bole of a tree blotted out his vision.

 _This is it_ , he thought. _This is how I’m going to die._   

~

The _Cape Town_ went up in a soundless roar of imploding dark energy, shedding clouds of coolant, oxygen and debris in her wake. Joker saw the massive buildup and subsequent evaporation of heat play out with painful swiftness on ladar and burned their thrusters, kicking the _Normandy_ clear above the wreck. Several geth fighters vanished inside the gaping maw of destruction, along with a turian frigate that hadn’t been quite as nimble.

“How many people on board that ship,” Chase asked, voice hitching.

“Can’t worry about that now,” Joker replied through gritted teeth as the ship shuddered. Debris from another geth fighter shredded by the GARDIANs scraped across their kinetic barriers. This one had gotten closer than the others. They were all starting to get closer.

Pressly leaned into the comm. “Adams, I need a heat reading on the radiators!”

“ _GARDIAN_ s _inks are sitting at seventy percent. We stay in the thick of things for too much longer and we risk burning out the lasers.”_

“Dammit,” Joker muttered. “Pressly, what’s the infrared look like?”

“We’ll max before they run out of fighters,” the navigator replied.

“Shit.” Joker wiped a bead of sweat off his brow, then froze.

 _Shit_.

The IES had long been dropped, the titanic amounts of heat they’d built up from the thrusters, GARDANs and torpedoes rendering the cloak useless, and a drain on the heat sinks they couldn’t afford. But it didn’t solve the problem. Every burn, every torpedo launch, every fighter fried by the GARDIANs ratcheted up the sink capacity. That capacity was unforgivingly finite.

“Adams, it’s getting hot up here.”

“ _Hull sinks are approaching max,”_ Adams concurred _. “Pretty soon I need to vent the drop sinks or we’re all gonna cook.”_

“Joker?” Pressly asked.

“Give me one more pass. Then blow ‘em.”

Joker set his sights on another cruiser, firing a torpedo and spinning the hull to starboard as he spiraled away from another hoard of fighters.

“Now, Adams!”

The _Normandy_ painted herself across enemy sensors in a brilliant spray of coolant as millions of droplets of liquid lithium vented from the bow.

“Where is the _Ascension?_ ” Pressly demanded.  

“The _Trafalgar_ and the _Madrid_ are escorting her to the relay,” Chase replied. _“Madrid_ is under heavy fire from a dreadnaught and two cruisers.”

“Sounds like we need to give them something else to shoot at.”

Joker burned the engines, gunning towards the _Destiny Ascension_ , firing torpedoes and dancing in and out of enemy firing lanes. Pressly kept an eye on the geth cruisers trying to broadside them.

“We stay in close enough quarters we should be able to avoid the main guns of those dreadnaughts,” the navigator said.

“That’s the plan.”

Unless, of course, the geth didn’t care enough about their own to avoid friendly fire.                 

“Joker!”

“Chase, I’m a little _busy_.”

“The ward arms are opening!”

Joker patched her display feed through to his console. The Citadel, a tightly closed cylinder moments ago, now parted like the petals of a blooming flower.

“Christ Almighty,” Pressly murmured.

At the heart of the Presidium, Sovereign latched onto the Citadel Tower like a parasite.

Chase exhaled. “Shepard’s in there.”

Over the Alliance comm frequency, Hackett issued orders.

Regroup. Attack. Take down Sovereign at all costs.

At all costs.

Joker flipped the ship neatly over the Y-axis, reorienting the bow so their main gun lined up with the monster’s throat.

_At all costs._

~

Kaidan slammed the heel of his palm against the console. Block after block. Firewall after firewall. There was no way to stay ahead of Sovereign. The precious seconds it had taken to open the Ward arms merely allowed the reaper to eat up more of the buffer.

In the background, Wrex and Tali did their part to tear apart the geth still attacking inside the tower. Shrieking metal, the dedicated bark of shotguns and the crackle of overloading shields and overheating weapons formed the worst kind of symphony. But so far, that was one front they were winning.

The other front, the most important one, not so much.

 _I am a human going up against an AI. This is not something I can win_.

Unless it wasn’t about winning. Almost too late he realized he wasn’t alone – the prothean upload from Vigil hadn’t just restored control. It was also…helping. Some kind of assistive protocol had identified the reaper threat and now actively worked against it. 

And it had a few good ideas.

Chewing his lip in deep concentration, he stopped thinking about whether or not he could _stop_ Sovereign, and instead just looked for ways to waylay it.

He changed low priority flags to high. He created endless feedback loops of junk data and disguised them as critical systems. If Sovereign wanted to open doors, Kaidan gave it the keys – but made sure they were to the wrong door. Like a rat in a maze.

Sovereign was a lot smarter than a rat. But maybe, just maybe, it would be enough.      

~

In the silence of space, Sovereign roared. Bright red lances sheared through hulls like sheets of paper, laughing at kinetic barriers and drilling through their ablative coatings as though they didn’t exist. Within minutes a single reaper had eviscerated the _Emden._ The _Jakarta_. The turians had already lost twelve cruisers in the geth’s initial assault, and Sovereign dispatched four more with a few lazy strikes of lethal directed energy.

At this range any DEW should have been all but useless. But then again, Joker was used to bow weapons and main guns that were as long as the dreadnaught itself, and couldn’t be oriented fast enough to keep up with something as small and swift as the _Normandy_. Because they obeyed _physics_.

Sovereign didn’t. Massively powerful particle beams emanated from its legs, each blast as powerful as anything the _Everest_ could dish out, but as maneuverable as a damned fighter.

The Citadel’s envelope swarmed with fighters, frigates and cruisers. At this kind of range friendly fire became as big an enemy as Sovereign itself, which only widened their disadvantage. Joker found himself dodging turian and Alliance torpedoes as often as he did those shining tongues of fire, and every missed shot, every unsuccessful calculation punished the Citadel itself.

And Sovereign didn’t miss. The damn thing cut them in half on a lark, and the combined firepower of the Citadel Fleet, the turians and the Alliance hardly scratched its barriers. It didn’t help that because it was sucking face with the Tower, the dreadnaughts couldn’t fire without hitting the Citadel.  

They were _fucked_.

“It’s got to be vulnerable _somewhere_ ,” Joker growled.

“We’re attacking it from too many angles,” Pressly said. “We need to find somewhere the armor is thinner and hit it with everything we have. Precision shots. Chase. I want every scan you can get. Find a chink in the armor. Somewhere. _Anywhere_. We’ve got to get those barriers down.”

“I see a heat spike right here on the forward bow,” Chase answered, fingers feverishly working her haptic interface. “Might be a kinetic generator? Heat dispersion apparatus? Think we can take it out?”

Joker spared a quick glance at her findings. “We’re sure as shit going to try. Maybe if we all start shooting at the same thing we can stop shooting our _selves_ for a few minutes.”

Pressly nodded in agreement. “I’ll notify the fleet.”

“Joker. Captain Crean on the _Warsaw_ is requesting Hackett order a retreat.”

“ _No!”_ Joker exclaimed. “This is our only chance, damn it, don’t they—”

_“This is Admiral Hackett to all ships. Do not break off your attack. Uploading coordinates for a concentrated offensive. Divert all resources and fire at will. Take that monster down!”_

Joker exhaled. Hitting that target and staying out of range of those lasers was going to mean getting close enough to scrape the paint. If Sovereign had eyes they were about to see the whites of them.

“Here goes nothing,” the pilot declared. “Everyone hang on!”

~

A snare of blue energy stopped Shepard in mid-air, face mere inches from the tree. As he dropped to the ground, whatever used to be Saren lunged amid the music of Garrus’s sniper rifle. Shepard rolled, somehow tugging his pistol free and firing as the reaper-controlled turian landed where his head had just been. Stars blazed in Shepard’s eyes as his weight fell on his bad hip. For a moment the pain blacked out everything else.  

But Saren’s attention was no longer on him. The turian raised his eyes to the shattered ceiling above them.

“Liara!” Shepard shouted. “Whatever happens, keep him down here!”

The now-familiar cant of gravity buzzed in his ears as a biotic noose caught Saren seconds before he attempted his escape, lifting him off the ground and locking him helplessly in a crackling blue corona. Shepard opened fire, pistol barking as rapidly as he could pull the trigger, until the overheat siren wailed in his ears. Garrus didn’t waste the opportunity either, one slug burying itself in Saren’s shield emitters with a thunk. His shields vanished with a flicker.  

The veins of red running through Saren’s body snarled, momentarily disrupted before knotting back thicker and stronger.  Once again he turned his attention back to Shepard, that same synthetic glow lighting up his eyes, blotting out everything that had once been turian.

“Shepard, I can’t hold him!” Liara cried.

Shepard dragged himself to his feet, left leg all but useless from the hip down. He hobbled to Saren, foot dragging. “This is your last chance,” he said through gritted teeth. “Help me stop this. You’ve got to be in there somewhere. You can do this. Benezia did it. You can help me. _You can help me.”_

He yanked a grenade out of his pocket – one of Alenko’s ECM toys – and slapped it home among the cables in the turian’s chest.

It detonated in a starburst of electricity. The turian seized as Shepard dropped to the ground, shields screaming in protest as they overloaded. Fried circuitry, overloading servos and burning flesh filled the air with an acrid sting. The red filaments of energy surrounding Saren evaporated with a vehement hiss.

As the last crackles died away Saren fell in a heap, lights dimmed, body smoking.

To Shepard’s disbelief, a ruined rasp issued from the turian’s throat.

“Shepard.”

Shepard dragged himself to the wreck, pistol in hand. Saren did not move. His eyes were open, but the irises were pale. Organic.

“ _Shepard_.”

“I’m right here.”

“The signal…”

“What signal?”

“The signal…is everything.”

“Signal? _What_ signal?”

Saren talons curled. Flexed. Went still.

_“Shepard!”_

Alenko’s voice over the comm came high and pitched. Shepard tore his gaze away from the turian, whose eyes had turned glassy, pupils fixed. “Status report, Lieutenant.”

_“I’m detecting a huge power surge. I can’t tell if it’s coming from us or coming from Sovereign. It’s on a carrier signal I can’t identify.”_

“What’s happening?”

_“I…I don’t know.”_

~

The reaper’s black, impenetrable hide glared at them through the shutters, the careful choreography of space combat playing out on sensors suddenly as real and visceral as if it were taking place in the CIC. Sovereign’s barrier still held, but there was no question they had at least inflicted some pain. Red rills of energy streaked across its hull like snaps of lightning, something it hadn’t been doing a few minutes ago.

But its lasers kept firing. And firing. And firing.

“The _Cairo’s_ gone!” Chase yelped. _Madrid’s_ about to go critical!”

“Stay on target,” Pressly ordered, eyes glued to the scanners.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, old man,” Joker grunted. I got this.”

A sea of debris and lingering ripples of dark energy unleashed from vaporized drive cores lapped at the _Normandy’s_ hull as she danced, diving in for a salvo before Joker flipped the bow and rolled across the transverse plane, pushing the limits of physics as far as he dared.

 _“Pressly, I’ve got more heat buildup we’ve got to get rid of,”_ Adams warned from below.

“Then blow the tiger stripes,” the navigator snapped. “Whatever you have to. Keep us in it.”

“Starboard side under attack. GARDIANs can’t keep up,” Chase informed them.

“Come on baby, hold together,” Joker murmured, then brought them back around for another run.

“Joker – shit, Joker look at those readings!” Pressly exclaimed.

Out the shutters, the red streaks of light erupting along Sovereigns hull thickened, no longer rivulets now but broad, thick currents of crackling energy. Its bow listed, canting away from the tower as its legs struggled to maintain purchase. On sensors a sudden change in kinetic output brought hope flaring to life in Joker’s heart. They’d damaged its mass effect core.

“Its barriers are down!” he yelled into the comm. “Now, now, now! _Hit that asshole!”_

Among the shattered corpses of dozens of ships, the survivors regrouped for one last barrage, the _Normandy_ at its head.

On sensors a convergence of heat from torpedoes, broadside guns and DEWs lashed out in a massive wave of combined ordinance.

Sovereign lurched, falling free of the tower like an animal exposing its throat. Joker fired the main gun, punching through polymers, metal and ceramic, drilling a hole in its very heart and sending fracture lines racing across the giant beast’s hull until they finally split, spewing molten hot gas and debris in all directions. Giant chunks of the dying reaper catapulted outwards in the form of hyperaccelerated projectiles, into the fleet, into the Citadel.

Into the Tower.  

“Son of a bitch,” Joker gasped, frantically trying to angle the _Normandy_ clear of the wreck. The three of them stared stricken at the carnage, all unable to join in the rejoicing flooding the comms, the same singular thought blotting out all joy from the victory.

 _Shepard_.

~

Liara skidded to Shepard’s side, heedless of the turian corpse beside him.

“Shepard!”

She trapped his helmet between her hands, blue eyes wide and anxious. “Are you all right?”

Garrus hit the ground with a thud as he dropped from a nearby tree. “Is he dead?”

“I think so,” Shepard said in answer to both.

He started to activate his comm to get another status report from Alenko, but the sound of a shrieking klaxon drowned out all other sound.

Station proximity alarm. Shepard looked out the viewing panes, where jagged pieces of flying shrapnel from Sovereign’s hull spiraled directly towards them.

He couldn’t get up.

He couldn’t run.

“Go!” he yelled, gesturing madly with his arm. 

Liara looped her arms around his neck and pressed her faceplate to his, body erupting in a halo of blue fire.

“No,” she whispered.

The viewing panes shattered. The vacuum of space came flooding in, riding a wave of superheated polymers and jagged metal that hit the arboretum with terminal force.

 

 


	54. Ex Fragmina

Air filled Liara’s lungs, expanding against her ribs with a sharp stab of pain. Several suit alarms chimed dutifully in her ears, patiently alerting her to critical failures requiring attention. Countless other afflictions flared to life as her consciousness sharpened to full awareness, covering a wide spectrum of dull, throbbing aches to the acute, razor pain that rattled her rib cage every time she took a breath.

_I’m alive._

Slowly, she opened her eyes. Dizziness struck, followed by a steady, unwelcome pounding in her skull. Emergency lighting flickered across a host of unfamiliar shapes, none of which she could resolve into something that provided a sense of orientation.

Except the nebula.

Through bent, sheared joists of disfigured metal she glimpsed its haze billowing against kinetic barriers that sealed shattered viewing panes, fencing out the crushing vacuum of space.

Damage assessments scrolled across her HUD.

[STRUCTURAL DAMAGE DETECTED. ERROR CODES CD0X-512. FX7W-914. WE1R-955.]

[BREACH DETECTED. EMERGENCY MEDIGEL DISPENSATION ACTIVATED]

[USER HAS SUSTAINED INJURY AND SHOULD REPORT TO THE NEAREST MEDICAL PERSONNEL]

She grimaced. Tested her limbs. Her right arm wouldn’t move. A bolt of terror raced through her until she turned her head and found it pinned under a chunk of blackened debris. With a gulp of air she raised her right hand, lapping at the metal with a pale burst of dark energy, earning just enough suspension to wrangle her arm loose. The one small effort overwhelmed her – her limbs felt leaden, muscles weak and cramping, like they’d been stretched beyond their limits and lost all elasticity. Her insides felt hollow, every spare nutrient in her body spent without replenishment. As blood returned to her lower arm the nerve endings lit up like knives dancing over her skin.

Blood trickled down her nose, a symptom of extended, unsafe biotic use, supported by her suit’s analysis of her current body chemistry. Electrolytes and blood pressure dangerously low. Severe dehydration. She needed calories. Fluids. Soon. This level of depletion shouldn’t have been possible – she’d had to completely shut down the safety protocols in her amp to do it. But she hadn’t had a choice. Her suit had sealed her against vacuum. But Shepard…

 _Shepard_.

Her heart rate jumped, eyes roving the surrounding debris. He’d been right there. Right in front of her as the entire room decompressed, draining away the oxygen and exposing them to vacuum for precious seconds before the emergency seals activated.

And Shepard’s suit with neck seals damaged by Saren’s iron grip.

_Damaged neck seals._

Frantically she combed her HUD for his transponder signal. For any transponder signals.

[NETWORK OFFLINE. SYSTEM ERROR. REBOOT REQUIRED.]

_Reboot, then!_

Her HUD darkened suddenly, entire suit quiet and dead. In the moments it took to reinitiate she heard nothing but the creak of unstable alloys. When her comms came back online she nearly cried with relief. 

“Is…is anyone there?” she croaked.

She licked dry lips, trying to find some moisture in her mouth to relieve her parched throat. As she waited for the rest of her suit analytics to reboot, she closed her eyes.

From here she couldn’t tell whether the upper level of the chambers remained intact. If anyone else had survived she couldn’t hear them. But from here she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to hear anyone. So much debris…

 _Garrus. Tali._ _Am I the only one?_

Her suit chimed.

[STATUS READY]

With a soft exhale she entered a command.

[ _Locate transponder_ ]

[TRANSPONDER NETWORK OFFLINE. PLEASE INPUT MANUAL QUERY]

Weary fingers tapped out a number sequence on her omnitool. The only one she knew by heart.

[9773-4155-8115-7778]

[SEARCHING]

[NO RESULTS]

She screwed her eyes shut, forcing herself to breathe deep. If the transponder didn’t register, perhaps the emergency locater would.

[ _Detect distress beacon_ ]

[PING NOT RETURNED]

No. No. _No._

He’d been right there. Right in her grasp.

She struggled to sit up, ignoring the pain in her arm, not stopping to heed the hardsuit warnings scrolling across the lower part of her HUD on a repeating loop.

[STRUCTURAL DAMAGE DETECTED. ERROR CODES CD0X-512. FX7W-914. WE1R-955.]

[EMERGENCY MEDIGEL DISPENSATION ACTIVATED]

[USER HAS SUSTAINED INJURY AND SHOULD REPORT TO THE NEAREST MEDICAL PERSONNEL]

She tugged her helmet off with her left hand and cast it aside. When she managed to get her feet under her the world tilted dangerously. She slipped, tumbling down a shoulder of debris and slamming into a spar of fractured rebar. The pain in her ribs doubled, driving all breath from her lungs and leaving her stunned, tears springing from her eyes as she desperately tried to suck in air.

 _He’s here. He has to be here_.

Her right hand shook as she pulled out her omnitool and started keying in commands to scan the debris. Looking for lifesigns. Movement. Anything.

She didn’t let herself think about the possibility that all she might find was a body.

When the dizziness receded a little she tried her feet again, bracing herself on the spar until she steadied. Without her helmet the stench of charred metal and scorched ozone stung her nostrils. Thick reams of hazy smoke rolled past, making it hard to see. She thought about going back for the helmet – whatever parts of her HUD still functioned properly could probably help her cut through some of this mess. But she didn’t know if she could climb back up to it without destabilizing the fragile pile of debris. Or climb it at all, for that matter. She pressed her wounded hand to her chest, small, quick breaths all she could manage.

She kept looking.

Sweat beaded along her brow, stinging her eyes. She wiped it off with the back of her gauntlet. Twice her omnitool gave her hope, only to realize the organic readings were nothing more than the shredded remains of vegetation. She sank down to her knees in front of the splintered trunk of one of the azinnia trees, its few remaining rose colored leaves shriveling into themselves, the brief exposure to vacuum crippling it beyond saving. She grazed one of the blossoms with her fingers, throat closing as it crumbled into dust.

Her omnitool pinged.

She looked up, eyes drifting to her right, to another debris pile of indiscriminate metal and exposed cabling. Much of the rubble consisted of hauntingly black alloys, so dark they might have stood out as shadows against the black void of space. Microfractures pocked their surface, not unlike the hull of a ship with extended exposure to interstellar detritus. A skewer of dread twisted in her gut.

It was the body of a dead reaper.

She swallowed.

Her omnitool pinged again, directing her to a shape pinned under the debris pile. From here it looked like all the others.

But six steps closer she made out the shape of an arm, encased in black armor with a red stripe running down the side.

Liara ran, clutching her ribs, stumbling over the slag, catching her foot on a collapsed trestle and wrenching her ankle. She got back up, foot dragging as she hobbled the remaining distance, heart hammering as she sank down beside his still form.

The medical scanner on her omnitool wailed.

 _Pulse, he has a pulse_.

The fallen beam pinned him at the waist. Scorch marks from the ECM grenade that had killed Saren cut deep gouges across his chestplate, the primary circuits of the hardsuit fried beyond repair. His helmet sat askew over his head, the damage to the ceramic around his neck too great to maintain a tight enough seal. But it was still on, which was more than she’d expected.

 _Please. It has to have been enough. Please let it have been enough_.

She flexed the fingers of her right hand before gripping both sides of his helmet firmly and giving it a gentle pull. Underneath his skin was alarmingly pale, small line of blood trickling from the corner of his lip. He was so still. She’d never seen him so still.

“Shepard,” she whispered, smoothing a hand across his brow. His skin was ice cold despite a smear of sweat. “ _Shepard_.”

He stirred. Her heart leapt. Slowly his eyes opened, weak and watery, but still startlingly blue.

“Liara.”

His voice was small, faint, hoarse with effort. The fingers of one hand jumped, and she immediately grasped them.

“You’re alive,” she murmured. 

His lips curved in a weak smile. “Feel like hell,” he rasped.

She held her breath when she looked back down at her omnitool. The medical scan results set her stomach churning with fear. Fractured pelvis. Internal hemorrhage. Ruptured spleen. Erratic heart rate. Symptoms of shock. That damned beam was crushing him.

_Have to get it off._

She rubbed her fingers together, lump forming in her throat. She was fairly certain her amp was damaged, and even if it wasn’t…she didn’t have the reserves to lift it.

_Where is Garrus? Where is Alenko? Dammit, I need their help!_

She exhaled with a tremble, meeting his gaze with a forced smile. “Help is coming. We are going to get you out of here.”

Shepard’s eyes closed, fingers curling around hers. “It’s ok.” 

“No,” she said forcefully. “They’re coming. Dr. Chakwas will…” she trailed off, eyes straying to the foreboding black hull fragments scattered around them.

Was Dr. Chakwas even alive? Were any of them?

With a gulp of frustration, she executed a mnemonic, gritting her teeth and bracing herself, digging deep within the dry well of her body. A weak corona flickered around her like a sputtering candle, accompanied by a thick buzz in her ears. Her head pounded until she thought it might split. The metal groaned, but didn’t move. She cried out in distress and let go.

“I have to go find help,” she said, gathering her feet back under her. Her damaged ankle roared in protest. _No time for that. Have to find someone_.

But before she could stand Shepard’s hand tightened around hers, eyes open and glimmering in the dim light. “Wait. Please.”

She wiped moisture away from her eyes, renewed her grip on his hand. “I can’t…I have to find help.”

He grazed her cheek with his fingers. The ablative was stiff and cold, rough against her skin. She leaned into it.

“They’ll come,” he said. “Stay a while.”

“We didn’t come this far just to…I have to find—”

“Liara.”

“I can’t lose you.”

His eyes drifted shut, a shallow breath rattling in his throat. “I’m right here.”

Liara’s thought drifted back to Therum, the moment when she’d realized she was going to die, alone, stranded in a mineshaft. Until a stranger with blue eyes had appeared in front of her.

She settled down beside him, still clutching his hand. Everything felt heavy. The acute, lancing pains in her body mingled with the dull throbbing ones, sapping whatever reserves she had left until she felt hollow, a pane of glass with slowly spreading fracture lines, waiting for just the right tap to splinter into fragments.    

Outside the gaping hull breach, Serpent’s gasses tumbled past in a lazy mist.

“Everything is going to be ok,” she whispered.

“I know.”

She closed her eyes.

~

Light splashed across her eyelids, so bright she winced. She inhaled deep in her nose and laid one arm protectively across Shepard’s chest. For one terrifying moment she couldn’t tell if he was breathing. Her palm splayed flat across his armor until she felt the chestplate rise and fall.

Shallow. Faint. But still there.

Tight, brilliant shafts of illumintion cut through the dust-choked gloom of the ruined arboretum.

Flashlights. Shouting.

Liara stirred, planting one hand on the ground to leverage herself up, the other still firmly grasping Shepard’s. Three shapes, one in an Alliance uniform. Another other wore armor she immediately recognized, and had an arm looped around his shoulders that attached to a silhouette with a familiar horned crest.

 _Garrus. Alenko_.

The Alliance officer turned her direction, the beam of his flashlight cutting a blinding swath across her. She shielded her eyes with an arm.

“Over here! Captain, I found them!”

Alenko turned, face paling. Gently he slipped out from under Garrus, who nodded and leaned against the trunk of a tree.

“Anderson,” Alenko called into his comm, picking his way hastily through the debris. “Anderson we’ve got them.” He squatted down next to Shepard, meeting Liara’s gaze with wide eyes.

“Liara,” he murmured. “Are you…?”

“I’m fine,” she replied. She had no idea if it was a lie. Didn’t care.

Alenko turned his focus to Shepard and activated his omnitool, undoubtedly running the same scans she had. Judging by the look on his face, he got the same results.

“We have to get him out,” Liara murmured.

“We’re going to,” Alenko assured her in a tone utterly at odds with his shell shocked expression. He got to his feet, eyes on the beam. Gravity shifted, buzzing against Liara’s skin as Alenko’s corona flared to life and bathed the beam in an envelope of biotic energy. Shepard groaned as it shifted, rising by inches. Alenko took a step, features contorting, skin pale. With a heave he flung the metal away, where it hit with a sharp clang and rolled.

Alenko exhaled and sank back down to his knees. “Shepard,” he said.

Liara tightened her hold on Shepard’s hand.

“Thanks,” Shepard managed, eyes fluttering briefly open before closing again. “That thing really fucking hurt.”   

Another flashlight beam cut a path through the dusky emergency lighting. Captain Anderson approached them from the opposite side of the wreckage, light bobbing in his hands as he made his way to them. The second Alliance officer hopped out of the way when he passed. Alenko too, moved aside without having to be asked, crouching beside Liara. Anderson’s lips pressed together in a thin line, expression carved from stone. He took in Shepard’s condition without question or comment, merely turned to the other officer and issued commands.

“Harrison, find the damn medic and get her over here with a stretcher. Right now.”

Harrison nodded and took off like she’d been shot. Anderson looked back down at Shepard, expression softening to one Liara recognized. One she’d seen years ago in a grain silo.  

“Shepard,” Anderson said, baritone voice rumbling deep in his throat. He put a gentle hand on Shepard’s shoulder. “Shepard. _Answer_ me, marine.”

The commander’s eyes drifted open again, lips parting slightly. When he tried to move Anderson pressed down against his shoulder.

“Easy, son. Medics are inbound. Going to get you out of here. Just hold on.”

The lines on Shepard’s face smoothed ever so slightly. “Showed that bastard.”

“Looks like he showed you a thing or two himself,” Anderson replied with a chuckle.

“Mine was better.” His breath came out as a wheeze. Again he struggled to move, again Anderson stopped him.  

“My crew?” he asked.

“Accounted for,” Anderson replied, and Liara heaved a small sigh. “The turian is in one piece. Ms. Zorah is fine. Your krogan took a few lungfulls of vacuum, but it doesn’t seem to be bothering him.”

Shepard smiled.

Anderson wiped some sweat off of Shepard’s brow. The pallor of his skin remained alarmingly pale. “Always have to do things the hard way, don’t you. Hold on just a little longer. We’re going to get you out of here. Brass is already working on a medal ceremony. If I have to make it posthumous, I’m gonna be really pissed.”

“Wouldn’t want…to disappoint you, sir.”

“You never have, son. You never have.”

~

The next few days went by in a blur.

Kaidan barely remembered getting back to the _Normandy._ The damage done to the Citadel had thrown the docking rings into disarray, but somehow someone had managed to get the _Normandy_ a berth to collect her wounded crew members. By the time they reached the ship a full-blown migraine had set in, the scotoma splashed across his vision so pervasive he’d had trouble cycling the airlock. Tali and Liara had come back on board with him, but Garrus, under Dr. Chakwas’ vehement objections, headed for the nearest functioning C-Sec outpost. Wrex didn’t come back at all. He’d followed Shepard’s stretcher when it finally arrived, accompanying him to an intact trauma center. No one argued with the krogan.

It was also the last anyone had heard from either of them.   

The docking bays remained in lockdown, along with all areas of the Citadel not under emergency evacuation orders. Comms disruption remained pervasive, requiring the orbiting fleets to use their own frequencies to keep information flowing, and most of those channels had been delegated to either emergency traffic or classified transmissions.

In layman’s terms, it was a mess.

But for the first day or so, Kaidan was hardly even aware of it. Dr. Chakwas locked him up in the medbay on a full dose of triptons while she tended to minor injuries. Liara took up the bed beside him, receiving treatment for a fractured ankle, broken wrist, and two broken ribs, not to mention correcting the massive electrolyte imbalance and associated deficiencies brought on by her biotics display.

She’d tried to protect Shepard from vacuum.

Even crazier, it had _worked_. The question was whether he’d survive the rest.

No time to dwell on it. Without Shepard to file reports and field questions, the duty fell to Kaidan. The moment Dr. Chakwas gave him the all clear his entire life revolved around trying to piece together what the hell had just happened. Pressly saw to the ship and the crew, issuing repair orders and coordinating with the fleet. Kaidan liaised as best he could with the Citadel itself, given the circumstances. He managed to find Garrus, which at least provided him a link to C-Sec. Through it they got permission for Dr. Chakwas to disembark and assist with the wounded.

The number of dead and injured were staggering. Tayseri Ward had undergone catastrophic damage. Rescue squads were still finding pockets of trapped survivors, as well as entire sections that had been opened to vacuum, with no power to protect the people inside. It was gruesome work, and the only time Kaidan asked about it, Garrus changed the subject.

Five days into the aftermath, Hackett issued orders for Kaidan and Pressly to report to the temporary Alliance base of operations erected in Zakera Ward. Hackett, Rear Admiral Mikhailovich, Admiral Kahoku, Captain Anderson, Ambassador Udina, the Council, the turian Primarch, salarian Dalatross and a roomful of other top officials that made Kaidan’s head spin met in a tiny conference room with no chairs, listening with bowed heads as Hackett tallied their losses.

Too many. Seven cruisers from the Alliance. The turians had lost a whopping forty. The list of casualties seemed endless, and there were more than a few names on it that Kaidan recognized.

Shepard’s wasn’t one of them.

He listened as Pressly recounted the _Normandy’s_ role in the attack on Sovereign, finally gleaning many of the details he hadn’t had time to sort through. When asked, he recounted what had happened in the tower as best he could.

“And what about Saren?” Mikhailovich demanded. Kaidan had never met the man before, but Shepard had muttered a few unkind words about him in the past. Brilliant strategist, but a man with a stick up his ass and a god complex that didn’t do anyone any favors.

“He’s dead,” Kaidan said simply. “Commander Shepard took him down. If you want the details, you’ll have to ask him.”

Mikhailovich scowled, Adam’s apple jumping as he swallowed back a retort. Kaidan’s heart thudded in his chest as he waited for someone to correct him, confirm his fears that Shepard was dead. No one did.

Councilor Tevos tipped her chin, scrutinizing Kaidan with cool eyes that rose his hackles. “We were hoping you could shed some light on why the dreadnaught’s barriers became vulnerable.”

Pressly stirred, expression dour. “I have a pretty good pilot who would argue that we got Sovereign to drop its barriers through a coordinated attack on a vulnerable point.”

Tevos nodded, her expression unchanged. “I heard your assessment, Navigator Pressly, and it was extremely impressive. There is no question we owe the Alliance our lives. However I still wonder if there are other variables involved we have not yet identified. The dreadnaught’s power was…considerable. The outcome, while extraordinary, requires additional explanation.”

“If there’s an explanation to be had we’ll get it,” Anderson replied. “But not until Commander Shepard’s condition permits.”

Kaidan and Pressly exchanged swift glances.

“Captain, you are not in a position to dictate when or how Shepard’s debrief will take place,” Udina said. “Your fate has not been decided. In fact your presence at this confidential gathering is a concern to me.”

Hackett turned his icy gaze to the Ambassador. In person, the Admiral appeared even more imposing than he did on a vid screen. The deep scar across his cheek jumped with every subtle shift of his jaw, his broad shoulders cut a perfectly straight line that bent to no one. He clasped both hands smartly behind his back, eyes affecting an expression of tolerance. When he spoke, the entire room stopped to listen.

“Captain Anderson has the full confidence of the Alliance. He’s been reinstated.”

“Since when,” Udina snarled.

“Since he and Commander Shepard saved the Citadel.”

Udina opened his mouth to protest, but fell silent when Councilor Sparatus began to speak. “Clearly once Shepard is…available, we will need more answers. For now, we must assume the threat has been eliminated, and focus our efforts on salvage and reconstruction.”

“It’s not over,” Kaidan argued before he could stop himself. “Sovereign was a vanguard. There are hundreds, maybe thousands more of them out there in dark space, and now we know exactly what they’re capable of. Now is our time to prepare.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Your suggestion will be taken under advisement.”

The emphasis on his rank stung more than he’d like it to.

Udina cleared his throat, attention on Tevos. “Madame Councilor, as you indicated before, the Alliance played a significant role in defending the Citadel and averting disaster. We stopped your rogue agent and saved millions of lives in the process. I believe we have earned ourselves a seat on the Council.”

Tevos, Sparatus, and Councilor Valern all exchanged glances.

“Humanity’s petition to join the Council is not on the agenda for this gathering,” Valern spoke up. “However, it is a matter we will discuss in depth once the damage to the Citadel has been fully assessed. I speak for all of us when I extend our most sincere thanks to the Alliance and Commander Shepard, for all that they have done here.”

Udina nodded, somehow managing to look pleased and livid all at once. Moments later the meeting adjourned. Kaidan waited until he and Pressly had made it safely into the hallway to slam his fist against a wall.

“We haven’t even finished counting the bodies and they’re already kicking sand over their mistakes.”

“Lieutenant,” Anderson rumbled, appearing behind him. “At ease. You two, follow me.”

Wordlessly Kaidan and Pressly fell into step beside their former Captain.

“Sir,” Pressly asked, voice low. “How is he?”

“Come see for yourself.”

~

Hospitals all smelled the same, regardless of location or species. Kaidan had seen the inside of more than a few over the years and never gotten over the aversion But he’d never been so glad to be standing among harsh fluorescents and the sharp tang of astringent as he was when Anderson unsealed the door to a room at the end of the hall, closely guarded by a familiar krogan.

“Wrex,” Kaidan said, surprised to find he was smiling.

“You should have seen who they wanted to assign to his guard detail,” Wrex said with a snort. “Pathetic. If that’s the best the Alliance can do I’m amazed we won. Not one of them argued when I told them to shove off.”

Kaidan glanced from the door to the krogan, brow furrowed in deep thought, then pulled up his omnitool and accessed the comm link he’d set up with the _Normandy_. “Wrex, I need a favor. I’m going to send a message to the ship. Will you use your…uh, influence, to makes sure the recipient gets the proper…clearance?”

The Battlemaster’s lips parted in a scaly grin. “Yes.” 

“Thanks.”

He followed Anderson and Pressly into the cramped hospital room, eyes falling on the occupant in the lone bed, far too pale, but sitting upright and wearing a dour expression of utter distaste that was all too familiar.

“Fucking bone knitters. I get sledgehammered by a reaper and somehow the cure is still worse.”

Kaidan swallowed a sound that was part laughter, part relief.  “Maybe you should try ducking every now and then. Might live longer.”

“I’m like a cockroach,” Shepard replied.

“I can vouch for that,” Anderson muttered.

Shepard’s eyes narrowed slightly, looking Kaidan over from head to toe. “You all right?”

“Better than you,” Kaidan replied, eyebrow raised. “I _didn’t_ get sledgehammered by a reaper.”

Shepard shifted in his bed and winced, sucking air through his teeth. “I definitely don’t recommend it.” He nodded at Pressly. “How’s my ship?”

“Few repairs and she’ll be good as new,” the navigator said. “You’ve got a hell of a pilot, sir.”

“He’s told me a few times.” But the smile on Shepard’s face agreed. “You did a helluva job, Pressly. All of you. Knew you would.”

Pressly straightened a little. “Thank you, sir.” 

Satisfied, Shepard turned his attention to Anderson. “How did it go?”

“I think the Council was glad you weren’t there to knock their heads around. But they send their sincerest gratitude for saving their lives.” Anderson’s brow furrowed. “I’m worried about how they’re going to respond. The reapers are a threat they’re not prepared to deal with.”

“They better _get_ prepared,” Shepard declared. Kaidan suppressed a small smile. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting before walking into Shepard’s hospital room, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. Shepard’s patience did not extend to debilitating injuries.

“Udina is already making a move to give humanity a seat on the Council,” Anderson went on. “They’re tabling the discussion for now, but it won’t be long before they agree. I’m pretty sure the recommendation of the Spectre who saved the Citadel will carry some weight.”

Shepard shifted uncomfortably against his pillow. “Udina’s a pissant, but he’s a good politician. As much as I don’t like his methods he’s the man for the job, and he’ll do right by humanity.”

 Only the slightest trace of disdain crossed Anderson’s features. “I’ll pass the word along.”

 “Shepard,” Kaidan said slowly, mind still on the debriefing. “What happened with Saren? He went down the same time Sovereign’s barriers collapsed. That’s…an odd coincidence. No one’s sure _how_ the fleet managed to cripple it.”

Shepard’s expression darkened. “That thing in the arboretum wasn’t Saren. Sovereign had full control of him. It took shoving an ECM grenade down his shirt to disrupt whatever the connection was.”

“Did he say anything?” Anderson asked.

Shepard paused a little too long. Despite his apparent good spirits Kaidan saw the tightness at the corner of his eyes, heard the effort behind his humor. His normally sharp eyes were glassy, and he’d swear the commander had grown paler since they came in.

“He said…the signal is everything.”

“The signal?” Anderson said. “What signal?”

“I don’t know,” Shepard replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “But we need to figure it out.”

The three of them fell briefly silent. Underneath their victory a whole nest of new problems waited, each more snarled than the last. Even though it felt like they’d reached the finish, in reality it was probably only the beginning.

Shepard dropped a weary hand into his lap.

“We should let you rest,” Kaidan said quietly.

“I’m fine.”

“Alenko’s right,” Anderson interjected, gently, but in a tone that brokered no argument. “You’ve done enough, son. The galaxy will still be there when you’re back on your feet. Let someone else handle it for now.”

Shepard scowled, with just enough hint of the man who’d taken a Mako through a mass relay behind it to ease Kaidan’s mind.

“If you say so. But you.” He pointed to Kaidan. “Stay?”

Kaidan glanced at Anderson, who pressed his lips together in disapproval but nodded. As he and Pressly headed for the door, he cast one last look back at his former XO. Kaidan could not interpret the look on his face, but whatever it meant, Shepard got the message. Anderson nodded and left. Shepard watched him go.

“Hey, Shepard,” Kaidan said, sitting down next to the bed once the door hissed shut.

Shepard exhaled. “Wrex hasn’t let anyone but Anderson in here since they dragged my sorry ass through the door. It’s nice when it comes to keeping out the reporters trying to catch a glimpse of my corpse, but it’s been hard to get any news.” His brow furrowed. “Anderson’s keeping me on a need-to-know basis, and he apparently doesn’t think I need to know much.”

“He’s looking out for you.”

“Yeah,” Shepard said with a sigh. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“How do you feel?” Kaidan asked.

The furrows deepened. “They’re being too cautious.”

Kaidan raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Shepard, I’ve seen you nursing a hangover in a bar with a beer in your hand at six hundred the day of a new duty assignment. I know when you feel like shit.”

Shepard chuckled, head dropping back against his pillow as the mask slipped a little. The slope of his shoulders narrowed, wear lines deepening as he closed his eyes. “You know, I half expected you to show up with pancakes, just for old time’s sake.”

A smile spread across Kaidan’s face. “I can go find some. Sure Greico could whip up a batch.”

“Shit, after saving the galaxy someone in this building could get us some damn pancakes if we asked for them.”

Kaidan shook his head. “You pulled off the impossible, Shepard.”

But instead of smile, Shepard’s gaze wandered the room, unable to find somewhere to settle. It was another sign of how exhausted he was – Shepard never tipped his hand to what he was thinking, and right now the anxiety on his face left a clearer roadmap than Pressly’s carefully annotated starcharts. 

“I don’t know what happened,” he said finally.

“With what?” Kaidan asked.

Shepard gestured weakly with one hand. “With Saren. Sovereign. Part of me wonders if he – Saren – did something. Maybe in the end whatever was still left of him got through.” 

“You think he helped us?”

Shepard toyed with his hands, exhaling in frustration. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

“Well, thanks to you we have time to figure it out.”

“Maybe. Right now I’m thinking about all the debriefs and security meetings and media circus that are waiting once they let me out of here and my krogan bodyguard finds something more interesting to do. Pretty sure a hospital bed won’t seem that bad.”

The door chimed. Shepard’s gaze snapped up and glared at it. Alenko stood, concealing a smile.

“You’re going to want to answer this one, Shepard.”

The glare shifted into a question.

“I took the liberty of sending a message to the _Normandy_ once I got here and knew where you were.”

Shepard sat up a little straighter, some of the weariness falling away like a shadow. “How did you…”

“You don’t tell many people about Anderson,” Kaidan told him. “When Tali said he was alive, well. She understood that was important to you.”

Shepard flushed slightly. “Are you going to chew my ass about the dangers of getting involved with a member of my crew?”

Kaidan’s smile faltered a little. “Shepard…one thing I’ve learned from this mission is that the galaxy keeps going. Even something like the reapers comes around again. But when you find someone who means something to you…that’s what’ll never happen again. Can’t let that pass you by.”

He unsealed the door to reveal Liara on the other side, eyes wide, fingers kneading anxiously. At the sight of Shepard, she froze.

Shepard stared, as though he was afraid she’d vanish if he blinked. He swallowed.

“Liara.”

“Hi,” she breathed.

 _Live a little_.

With Shepard that wasn’t a problem.


	55. Epilogus

Shepard could smell Alliance protocol all over the clean shaven marine escorting him through the labyrinth that made up the _Everest’s_ inner belly. Serviceman Gantos, he’d introduced himself as, but there had been no further discourse between them other than barked announcements that his orders were to take him to Hackett, and the occasional update of where the hell they were in this monstrosity of a ship. The _Everest_ was massive. Shepard had never been aboard an Alliance dreadnaught, but he wasn’t exactly here for a tour.

Aside from the occasional side glance, Gantos remained blank-faced and utterly devoid of personality. People who recognized Shepard usually gawked, but he was fairly certain that when this guy identified him, the mutiny part came to mind a little quicker than defeating Saren and saving the Citadel.

Couldn’t please everyone.

An angry throb ran through his still-healing hip. Four weeks of bone knitters – _four damn weeks –_ and it still wasn’t fully healed. They’d gone in and dug around at least three times for sequestrums, taking each occasion to scold him that a replacement hip would serve him better than the bag of ice his pelvis had been reduced to. 

Shepard had told them to fuck off and fix it. Politely.

Well, politely at _first_.

Once it had finally healed well enough that they couldn’t keep him strapped to a bed any longer, he’d immediately been yanked into debriefs. Interviews. Udina wanted to plaster his face over every newsfeed and active broadcast vid he could find. A human had saved the Citadel. They even _called_ him the Savior of the Citadel. Somehow he’d been given credit for saving the Council, too, even though he was pretty sure he hadn’t had much to do with _that_ other than giving Alenko the order to open the relays.

No one cared. Alliance admirals peppered him with questions, few of them polite. They wanted answers Shepard couldn’t give. About Ilos. About Vigil. About Saren.

Few seemed to have gotten a copy of Shepard’s report that contained Saren’s talk about a signal. That discussion had taken place behind closed doors with the upper echelon of Alliance brass on vidcomm with the highest ranking members of Command back on Earth. Shepard didn’t know what to tell them. Any more than he knew what to tell himself.

His growing certainty that somehow, right at the end, Saren had been trying to actually _help_ them was something he kept quiet.

It was just a feeling. One he wasn’t ready to be accountable for yet.

When the Alliance was done with him, they’d chucked him to the reporters. What followed were hours, _days,_ under hot lights and a never ending progression of cameras, as journalists from outlets of every species thrust a recording device under his nose to get the story – or as much as the Alliance would let him tell. At this point he couldn’t remember who he’d spoken to, who he hadn’t, or when he’d last slept without someone invading his comms wanting a statement.

Shepard hadn’t seen his crew since Ilos. Hadn’t seen his squad since Kaidan had snuck Liara in a few weeks ago. Since his departure from the hospital he hadn’t even seen Wrex. He’d had to depend on second hand reports and assurances from Dr. Chakwas that both the ship and her crew compliment were well and accounted for.

If this was a hero’s life, he’d be happy to stuff it up Udina’s ass.

Gantos escorted him through the main bridge – a huge, oval space crewed by at least fifty at one time – to a briefing room where Admiral Hackett stood waiting, hands clasped behind his back, expression stern, shrewd eyes alert and piercing. Shepard’s posture automatically straightened, years of military discipline taking over and reforming his body into something that radiated decorum.

“Shepard. Welcome to the _Everest_.”

Shepard shifted his weight, standing heavier on his right foot while maintaining the illusion he wasn’t. “Thank you, sir.”

Hackett nodded to Gantos, effectively dismissing him. He vanished out the door, though Shepard had no doubt he wouldn’t go far.

“I won’t keep you long,” Hackett rumbled. “I know you’re anxious to get back to your ship.”

“Very.”

A small smile cracked the Admiral’s grim veneer. “By this point the nearest cliff probably looks pretty good right now, doesn’t it?”

“Most definitely, sir,” Shepard replied.

Hackett chuckled. Shepard relaxed – just a fraction.

“So what can I do for you, Admiral? Why call me all the way up here?”

Some of the scrutiny returned to Hackett’s expression. He inhaled, putting careful fingers to his chin. “This conversation is just between you and me.”

Shepard frowned, curious. “Yes, sir.”

Hackett’s eyes narrowed briefly before his expression smoothed back out. “I don’t like what I’m hearing from Command. No one is saying it yet, but the reapers are not something anyone wants to acknowledge.”

“They have to. What choice do they have?”

Hackett remained silent.

Shepard’s brow furrowed. “Do you think they’re going try and cover it up?”

“I’m saying they’re already trying. So are the other Council races. The road ahead of us isn’t going to be an easy one, Shepard. Sovereign caught the most powerful people in the galaxy with their pants around their ankles, and they aren’t very happy about it.”

“It _should_ galvanize them into action.”

Hackett grunted. “You sorely overestimate politicians.”

Distaste washed across Shepard’s features. “That’s not something I usually get accused of.”

Hackett stilled, eyes glinting. “The truth is going to be very important over the next few months. Not enough people know it. Not enough people are going to say it.”

“What do you need from me, sir?”

“I need you to be one of the loudest voices we hear. No matter what the consequences. What you’ve done here is nothing short of miraculous. You’re a symbol, Shepard. People will listen to you. But there’ll be a price. Probably an ugly one.”

Shepard frowned. “What are you saying?”

Hackett lowered his chin. “It appears to be a universal flaw of sentient life to attack the things we hold in the highest regard until they’re just as dirty and tarnished as the rest of us.”

“So you think I’m destined to be a convenient scapegoat.” Another throb echoed through Shepard’s hip. He resisted the urge to acknowledge it.

“I don’t have a crystal ball, Shepard,” Hackett said, eyebrow raising. “I’ve just been around long enough to know how these things go. I brought you here to tell you that whatever does happen in the coming months, you won’t be without allies. I’m putting you on the front lines, but you won’t be the only one preparing for the reapers.”

Shepard digested this for a moment.

“We’re going to need you, Shepard. The reaper threat is real. Shutting one door won’t lock them out forever. They’re still out there. They’ll come. Whatever everyone else believes or says won’t mean a damn thing when they show up on our doorstep.”

“So what do you recommend I do?” Shepard asked.

Hackett’s keen gaze stuck to him like glue, never missing a thing. “Surround yourself with people you trust. And no matter what you hear, keep doing your job.”

~

Garrus Vakarian swept one last gaze over the noisy atrium. In the aftermath of the Citadel attack C-Sec had appropriated office space in an undamaged portion of the Presidium, and over the last six weeks he’d helped them wrangle it into a functional, efficient space. Whatever personal feelings Garrus might have had against Executor Pallin, his old boss had done a hell of a job. Beating order out of chaos ran in a turian’s blood, but Pallin did it better than most. It was a nice reminder that he’d gotten the top job for a reason other than just making Garrus’ life miserable.

But no matter how swift and efficient the response, there was still a lot that needed to be done. Presidium repairs were already underway, but the Wards were another story. Rescue efforts continued, to say nothing of the cleanup. Tayseri Ward in particular had suffered massive damage, the likes of which might take years to recover.

A not so insignificant part of Garrus wanted to be part of that recovery. Going back to C-Sec would be good work. Something he could be proud of. Something his _father_ could be proud of.

But then he thought about the shattered remains of the reaper corpse pinwheeling through Citadel space, some of those pitch-black alien fragments still lodged within the framework of the Citadel itself.

One reaper. One reaper, and it had done all of this.

One reaper, and the combined might of the Citadel, turian and human fleets almost hadn’t been enough.

“Garrus.”

He turned to find Fenn Tornack behind him, a young C-Sec lieutenant Garrus had been working with who was probably going places. And fast. Saren had opened a lot of vacancies. They made a good team. In another universe, Garrus wouldn’t mind having him as a partner. Have a normal career.

Problem was Shepard had tied a grenade to ‘normal’ and sent it sailing into the sun.

 “We got an emergency call from Zakera Ward. More looters in the factory district. We haven’t secured those docks, yet.” He handed Garrus a datapad.

Garrus handed it back to him. “Sorry, Lieutenant. You’re going to have to find someone else to help with this one.”

One mandible flicked in confusion. “You going off duty?”

“Off station,” Garrus replied. “I’m headed for the docking bay.”

“You’re _leaving_?”            

“In an hour,” he said with a nod.

“With the human?”

“With the Spectre,” Garrus corrected. “The one who made sure all of _this_ ,” he gestured with his talons, “wasn’t a lot worse. This isn’t where it ends, Tornack. This is where it starts.”

Tornack shifted his weight, mandibles quivering uncomfortably. “Sure. Well, good luck. We could really use you. If you change your mind…”

Garrus shook his head. “I won’t.”

With one last skeptical trill of his subvocals, Tornack departed. Garrus felt a stab of guilt. Tornack’s long day was just getting started. No one working C-Sec right now had slept more than a few hours at a time since the attack. They _could_ use Garrus. They could use everyone.

 _One reaper_. _Just one_.

Garrus took one last look around, and inhaled deeply before turning on his heel and leaving C-Sec behind.  

~

Shepard leaned on the railing of the docking bay, easing his weight off his left hip. The drone of repair mechs mingled with the constant hiss of hydraulics and running turbines as the _Normandy_ repairs drew to a close, creating a background of noise that was as comforting as it was familiar. Fresh coat of paint and she’d be good as new.

If only Shepard could say the same.

Hackett’s words still rang in his ears.

 _You can’t put this on me,_ he wanted to scream _. It’s too much for just one person_. But that was part of what being a Spectre meant, wasn’t it? Saren had failed. Shepard couldn’t. He’d taken the Spectre oath. He still wore the Alliance uniform. As tempting as it would be to take the _Normandy_ out of here and test the boundaries of space, he had a job to do.

The railing gave a little as a hulking presence came to loiter beside him. It wasn’t easy for a krogan to play it casual. Wrex managed it as well as any.

“You look awfully good for a krogan who inhaled a face full of vacuum,” Shepard observed.

“Redundant nervous systems are a handy evolutionary trait,” Wrex replied.

“Still. Keep your helmet on next time, will you?”

“I’ve lived over eight centuries without your help, Shepard. And I don’t walk with a limp.”

Shepard grimaced. “It’ll go away.”

“Why not go for the synthetic joint?” a voice asked. He turned his head as Garrus came up on his other side. “Would have healed quicker.”  

“Pardon me if I’m a little leery of cybernetics,” Shepard replied, shifting his weight again. “The last guy we met who went for them didn’t set a great example.”

“Pretty sure reapers don’t control hip joints,” Garrus pointed out.

“Shut up.”

The three of them stood in easy silence, until more footsteps fell across the deckplates behind them.

“Is something wrong with the airlock?” Tali asked.

Shepard turned to face her, back against the railing, easy smile on his face. “Just inspecting the hull.  Making sure they put back all the pieces where they belong.”

Tali joined them, equally content to lounge. “Everyone on board?”

“Dunno.” Shepard glanced around at the three of them. “Still waiting to finalize the crew manifest.”

“I go where my gun goes,” Garrus quipped. “And I’m pretty sure it’s still in the _Normandy’s_ cargo hold.”

Tali rocked her weight back on her heels. “I know a few tricks against geth. Think they might come in handy?”

A slow smile spread across Shepard’s face. “I think they would. But as I recall, you have a Pilgrimage to finish. As much as I’d like to…I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

She tilted her head. “I was kind of hoping you might give me a ride. And if we happen to encounter a few…detours along the way, well.”

“Understood,” Shepard said, smile deepening into a grin.   He turned his head towards Wrex. “Always nice to have a big, scary krogan around, too. What do you say, Wrex? You game?”

The krogan exhaled, expression almost pensive. If krogan could be pensive. “With you in charge, I don’t doubt there’d be plenty of things to shoot. But Virmire got me thinking.”

“Uh oh.”

Wrex snorted. “If the krogan want to survive, it’s time to take things into our own hands. If no one else will do it, that leaves me.”

A thoughtful look crossed Shepard’s face. “That doesn’t sound much like the krogan mercenary I met in Chora’s Den.”

“That krogan mercenary didn’t know his own people were being bred into indoctrinated slavery. Besides, Liara is persuasive.”

Shepard looked down at his hands, one lip crooking upwards. “Yes, she is.” He stepped away from the rail and offered the krogan his hand. “Still, won’t be the same without you.”

Wrex shook it. “I think you’ll manage. And if the time comes where you need a krogan ally, you have one.” He fixed Tali with a salient eye. “Don’t get shot.”

She patted his arm. “I won’t. Good luck, Wrex.”

“Don’t need it, but thanks all the same.” He turned his gaze to Garrus, then pointed to Tali. “Don’t let her get shot.”

Garrus’ mandibles flared. “What about me? Come on, Wrex. I thought we had something.”

The krogan chortled. “You’re not funny, Garrus. But keep trying.” He nodded at Shepard.

“Shepard.”

“Wrex.”

The krogan headed back the way he had come, the outline of his hump lost amidst a wall of billowing coolant.

“I think he’s going to miss me,” Garrus mused.

Shepard glanced from Tali to Garrus.

_Surround yourself with people you trust._

He clapped them both on the back. “Come on. Time to get out of here. We’ve got shit to do.”

~

The airlock door cycled open with a hiss. Shepard stepped through first, coming face to face with Joker.

“Hell, Commander. Could you have taken any longer? I dropped you on Ilos four weeks ago.”  

“Shit happened,” Shepard said with a shrug. “A reaper got in the way. How does it feel to be a hero?”

“They gave me a medal instead of a raise.”

Shepard grinned. “Sounds about right. You ready for this?”

Joker glanced to his right. “Uh. Yeah. I think we’re ready.”

Shepard followed his gaze, eyes widening in surprise. The _Normandy’s_ entire crew stood shoulder to shoulder in the hallway until they spilled into the CIC itself, where Pressly, Adams, Dr. Chakwas, Alenko and Liara all stood in front of the galaxy map.

Joker stamped a crutch against the deckplates and cupped a hand around his mouth. “Commander on deck!” he shouted.

Everyone stood to attention, hand to their brow in a salute. Shepard moved through them, painfully conscious of his limp and the dampness stinging the corner of his eyes.

Chase. Grenado. Felawa. Grieco. Tanaka. Dubyanski. Pakti. A sea of faces that had followed him to the edges of the galaxy. Put their mission higher than their duty to the Alliance. Risked their lives because they believed.

_Surround yourself with people you trust._

Tali, Garrus and Joker followed his procession. Upon reaching the CIC he loaded up his left hip and stood firm on both feet, gaze seeking out Liara before roving over the rest of his assembled crew. When he spoke his voice caught, rough as gravel in his throat. He swallowed, tried again.

“I’m so…proud of all of you.”

He didn’t get to say any more. Thunderous applause drowned out everything else, raising goosebumps on his skin. Joker hobbled up behind him, waiting with uncharacteristic patience for the sound to die away.

“Orders, Commander?”

Shepard took in a deep breath, ignoring his throbbing hip. “Hackett gave me intel about a missing survey team in Hades Gamma. Good a place to start as any.”

The pilot smirked. “I’ll lay in a course.”

~

The ship slid away from its docking clamps without fanfare, exchanging the nebula’s haze for the black, starry void of space. The ship hummed – despite the sense of calm, drowsy peace in the wake of victory, a nervous energy ran through the bulkheads.  

No rest for the weary. Not yet.

Shepard himself had to sign off on manifests, have a briefing with Pressly, and make the usual rounds with his crew before stopping to take a deep breath of his own. But at least it was familiar. Reassuring, even. No more cameras. No more interrogations. Whatever still lay ahead, at least he was home.

When he finally reached his quarters, a knot of tension unwound, shoulders finally shedding some of their starch.

“Hoped I’d find you here,” he said with a smile.

Liara clasped her hands self-consciously behind her back. “I did not want to intrude, but—”

He strode towards her, hip momentarily forgotten, and swallowed her in a kiss. It was like waking up from a nightmare to realize you’d been safe in bed the whole time.

When they parted her eyes fluttered open, irises mirroring his own relief.  

“I missed you,” Shepard said, hooking her close.

“I was beginning to wonder if they were ever going to let you off the Citadel.”

He slid his hands up her spine, breathing her in. “They finally got sick of me.”

“Good,” she replied, arms looping around his neck. She pulled her head back just far enough to look him in the eye. “I’ve been worried.”

His lips quirked in a smile. “Don’t be. I think they reattached everything.”

The sly grin from their night before Ilos crossed her face. “I may have to find that out for myself. Just to be sure.”

He winced as he tried to rebalance his weight. “You’ll just have to go easy on me for a while.”

“I think I can manage that.”

He kissed her again, mumbling against her lips. “Problem is not sure if _I_ can.”

The sound of her laughter sent a rush of heat across his skin. When he pulled back, she was smiling.

“Thanks to you, we have time.”

“I had a little help,” he reminded her.  

Her arms tightened. “Those first few days without information on what had happened to you…I was unprepared for what that would feel like.”

Shepard exhaled, touching his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry. You know…when you put this uniform on you’re prepared to die in it. But this is the first time I really thought about what I had to lose.”

Her blue eyes grew solemn. “I understand. I was on my own for a long time before Therum. But we will figure it out. Together. Hopefully with a little less gunfire and a little more…solitude.”

“Maybe Hackett will grant me some leave,” Shepard said with a shrug of his shoulder. “You and I can go vacation in that abandoned temple we talked about and get ambushed by mercenaries. After we escape maybe we’ll find a bar with those drinks that have the little umbrellas in them.”

“Sounds nice,” she said, lips trailing down his neck. “And then?”

Hackett’s words rang in his ears. _Keep doing your job_.

The mission came first. But just for a moment, just for a little while, Shepard was going to put something else first. They’d done their jobs. Anderson was right. Let someone else handle it for a while. Even if in the end it was all an illusion. Even if there was more sacrifice to come.

They’d earned this. They’d earned each other.  No matter how brief.

He wrapped his arms tight around her, her warmth seeping into his chest. “Then? We see where the stars take us.”


	56. Chapter 56

“The time to move is now.”

Admiral Kahoku drummed his fingers on the table. The room was dark, the only light seeping through coming from the windows lining the front of the shattered shop. Power had not been restored and they had not brought any generators of their own. All on purpose. All part of the plan. Where there was no power, there were no cameras. Bugs. No _proof_.

“We shouldn’t be doing this without Hackett’s knowledge.”

Admiral Mikhailovich scowled, the shadows layered across his face making the expression even more unpleasant. “Command gave the order. Hackett is irrelevant. This is our operation. Besides, keeping him in the dark offers plausible deniability for the Alliance if we end up needing it.”

“We’re going to need it,” Kahoku insisted. “Someone’s going to notice. You can’t move something that big and expect no one will ask questions.”

Admiral Milenna tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, shoulders stiff, expression wooden. “They will ask questions. The important thing is that they don’t find any answers.” She shifted her gaze to Mikhailovich. “Who have you found to carry out the operation?”

The Admiral clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ve got a team of Corsairs assembled and waiting for our word. As soon as we give them the go ahead they’ll make for the Mu Relay. All of the logistics have been arranged. It’s just a matter of execution.”

“And you have confidence in these men?”

“They’re the best Corsairs the Alliance has to offer,” Mikhailovich answered. “Lieutenant Jacob Taylor is in command. Special forces, made the N program. Technically N3. He hand-picked the rest of the team. They’ll get the job done.”

“And after?”

Mikhailovich’s eyes glinted. “We’ll shut them down. No loose ends.”

Kahoku shifted his weight. “I sincerely hope you’re not talking about _murdering_ Alliance officers to keep this quiet.”

“Only if it comes to that,” Milenna answered. 

Kahoku pressed his lips together.

“We’re fucked if anyone finds out about this,” Mikhailovich insisted. “The Alliance is fucked.”

“So why are we doing it?”

“Because we need to. Shepard might be a pain in the ass, but he’s right – something is coming. We need to be prepared. We need every advantage. We need that conduit.”

Kahoku sighed. “Very well. Give the order.”

Milenna nodded her agreement. Mikhailovich said nothing, merely turned and left.

Kahoku released a breath. “May God help us all.”

“God,” Milenna said, eyebrow raised, “has nothing to do with it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who has read this story, thank you. For your support, for your comments…for everything. It means the world. Every bit of it. This story is everything to me. 
> 
> A year and a half ago, I thought I’d try my hand at writing again. So I asked N7ZacHammer and ThaIronmann to toss me a couple of Mass Effect prompts. After playing multi with them for so long, I wanted to thank them for their time, their patience, and their friendship, and words are usually the best thing I’ve got to offer. So I wrote the stories, had fun with them, and to my delight they really liked them. After N7ZacHammer read his, we started chatting. 
> 
> I kind of want to write an ME1 adaptation, I told him. I kind of gave it a crack a while back, but I wasn’t wild about the results. I could use some help. Do you have any interest in looking at some stuff for me? 
> 
> Thank God his answer was yes. 
> 
> A little over a year and 250k words later, I’m the author of a novel that I’m more proud of than anything else I’ve ever accomplished.
> 
> N7ZacHammer, I can never thank you enough. You’ve been there for every step, every word. When it was easy, when it was hard, and when it was downright fucking impossible. You’ve put up with my shitty understanding of physics, dealt with the incredible yo yo action of my fragile ego, been patient with my slowly evolving ability to write combat, and never, ever hesitated to tell me when I needed to take another crack at something even when I thought I finally had it right. You helped me bring the world of Mass Effect to life in ways I could never have done on my own, and who this Shepard became is largely thanks to you. You are the best colleague I’ve ever had, and the best friend I could ever ask for. Thanks for everything. Exordium doesn’t exist without you. 
> 
> Guess it’s on to ME2!


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